


like a crow

by avocado_enthusiast



Series: like a girl [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Big Brothers, F/M, Female Hinata Shouyou, Hinata Shouyou Protection Squad, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, Pre-Relationship, Protective Karasuno Volleyball Club, Reverse Harem, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avocado_enthusiast/pseuds/avocado_enthusiast
Summary: Nishinoya’s voice is firm.“Gentleman we have a problem.”~The Karasuno boys create an elite task force whose sole purpose is to make sure their little sun stays like her nickname: warm, bright, and completely unattainable for the fools who aspire to be like Icarus.~Starring the ‘Sunshine Protection Squad’ and their little sun. Featuring the stark need to protect Hinata at all costs.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Everyone, Hinata Shouyou & Karasuno Volleyball Club, Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Series: like a girl [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807648
Comments: 361
Kudos: 1147
Collections: Haikyuu Stories





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by @asmuhseen for suggesting protective Karasuno interactions [and extra members for future chapters hehe]. Thank you for your comment lovely :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, and as much as I wish I did, this world came from the brilliant mind of Haruichi Furudate.

Nishinoya’s voice is firm.

“Gentleman we have a problem.”

The Karasuno volleyball team, save for Hinata, were all crammed into a small classroom awaiting the urgent announcement.

The libero leans over the desk, making sure all of the attention was on him. His expression is positively stricken. “Despite our past efforts, it looks like Hinata will be swarmed with even more _romantic advances_.” He spits out the last two words.

The team takes in a collective gasp which quickly morphs into shouts of complaints sprinkled with insults that would make the most sinister member of the yakuza blush. Sugawara always did have a foul mouth.

“She just got three confessions last week!” Sugawara says after a mouthful of choice words, throwing his hands in the air in aggravation.

Tsukishima pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, which made his eyes look even more annoyed than usual. “With her growing popularity they’re only going to increase.”

“Dammit boke!” Kageyama curses.

“Oi!” Nishinoya bangs his hand on the desk like a gavel, but he looked satisfied at their equal level of dissatisfaction from his perched position. “Like it or not, we knew this would happen one day. It’s not Hinata’s fault she’s so likable.” 

Murmurs of agreement bubble from the crowd.

“So that’s why Tanaka and I came up with a plan.” Nishinoya nods to Tanaka who is holding a poster in his hands. 

The wing spiker displays the poster, posing by it like he was presenting his doctoral dissertation. It was an elaborate medley of poorly drawn stick figures, a plethora of codenames, and an aggressive amount of glitter.

Asahi strokes his beard self consciously. “My beard isn’t that hairy, right?”

“At least your hair doesn’t look like a bean sprout.” Sugawara grumbles.

“Did you guys make this while you were blindfolded?” Tsukishima asks genuinely. He doesn’t hide his distaste for the colorful poster, but his eyes rove over the strategies, capturing every detail.

Tanaka doesn’t seem to hear the comments, showcasing the scribbles with pride. “This is a foolproof way to keep unwanted suitors away from Hinata. Yes, Yamaguchi?”

“Who are the unwanted suitors?”

Tanaka smiles brightly. “Everyone.” 

He goes back to the board. “Our biggest challenge is this.” He circles a date on the calendar vigorously. 

“Why’s that day our biggest problem?” Kageyama asks with a frown.

“Good question.” Nishinoya says excitedly like he was waiting for someone to ask. “That weekend, we’re going to be at another training camp. Nekoma, Fukurodani, and several other teams we’ve played will be there along with Hinata’s past admirers.”

He waits, but when no one seems to understand the implication of his words he continues. “That’s our highest threat because they’ll be able to romance her with _volleyball_.”

Immediately, the team erupts into a protective uproar; this one louder than the last. 

Nishinoya regards them patiently, looking like a real judge as his eyes sparkle wickedly. He silences them with the wave of his hand.

“So here’s the plan.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Asahi is the first to set the plan into action.

It happens at the school library. He’s writing his university entrance essay nestled in his favorite nook of the room when he spots them. Well, it’s more like he hears them first.

“ _GUH!_ Chemistry is so hard.” Hinata complains from a nearby table. She thumps her head on the book like she could force the information into her brain.

Asahi is about to get up and offer her some help when he sees the second figure, a nondescript looking first year who Asahi assumes is Hinata’s classmate. The problem arises when said classmate leans a little too close to Hinata.

“Hmm, calorimetry takes time. You need to make sure you’re using the right units. Like here,” he points to her paper. “This needs to be in joules not kilojoules.” 

The boy's advice was sound, but there was something unsettling in the way he lingers his hand on her shoulder as he peers to see her work as if he was caging her in.

Hinata sends the boy an odd look, tucking her head away. Asahi frowns at that, but is thankful when her classmate retreats to his seat.

“Units. Okay I can do that.” She directs her attention to the book. “Thanks.” Hinata’s smile was still intact, but it looked much more forced than usual.

Asahi’s mind went into overdrive, but a familiar weight of anxiety and dread rooted him in place. Although, Asahi outgrew his extreme aversion for conflict, there were vestiges of fear that scream at him to mind his own business. He always had a tendency to overthink situations, so what if he was reading too much into this?

The boy chuckles and says something too low for Asahi to hear, the classmate then and boops Hinata on the nose playfully, practically caressing her cheekbone. She flinches at the touch. 

Asahi ducks further in his hiding spot, his thumbs flying across his keyboard.

_ > Asahi Azumane: There’s a boy flirting with Hinata. She doesn’t seem to like his advances, can you please come to the library? _

The response is immediate.

_ > Nishinoya Yuu: OH SHIT. I'M COMING. _

_ > Nishinoya Yuu: KICK HIS ASS ASAHI _

And then.

_ > Nishinoya Yuu: BUT LEAVE SOME FOR ME TO KICK TOO _

His phone pings again, but this time with a message from Tanaka.

_ > Tanaka Ryuunosuke: Noya and I are on the way. You know what to do. _

  
Asahi shivers. When Tanaka doesn’t text with excessive GIFs or emojis, it is a clear omen that the wing spiker is not playing around.

His heart is in his throat as he surveys the pair who are sitting close together. Well it’s more like the boy is leaning into Hinata’s personal bubble while she diligently fills out her work. Her shoulders are hunched and her lips are pressed into a thin line. 

Asahi never noticed how small she was, far too used to her titan-like presence. That was a far cry from the girl in front of him. This girl looks like she wants to disappear from the world, like she can’t make herself small enough. He hates it. He decides then and there that just like the sun rises from east and sets in the west, Hinata should never have to feel small for the sake of others.

The encroaching first year slings an arm around Hinata’s shoulders leaning to whisper in her ear; she continues to shrink into herself. 

“Hey!” A voice booms through the library. It took a second for Asahi to realize that he was the one to speak.

Although his mind was at war with its usual tendencies, there was something screaming louder than the insecurities. A righteous fury that demanded action.

Before he knew it, he was across the room.

The two look at him. The boy opens his mouth to say something, but then he actually looks at Asahi. The comment dies on the boy's lips as his face goes slack with fear. 

For a brief second, Asahi’s confidence wavers. He doesn’t want this first year to see that he’s a sham, all talk, no action. But then he catches Hinata and her protective crouch.

Tanaka’s message comes to mind.

_You know what to do._

“Get your hands off of her.” 

With a whip-like speed, the boy glues his hands to his side. Asahi breathes a little easier as Hinata situates herself away from her classmate, her armadillo-like position slowly unraveling.

“Hinata, would you like to come and study with me?” He asks, not facing the other boy. From the corner of his eye the boy shrinks and Asahi smile sharpens. 

“Yes please.” Hinata’s books are already in her arms before she finishes her response.

He thinks back to his past confrontations and wanted to make sure Hinata had the space to speak her mind, to show this wasn’t just a third year making a first year piss his proverbial (and potentially physical) pants. He’d leave that part to Noya and Tanaka.

“Do you want to say anything to him?” He whispers low enough for just her to hear. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Hinata thinks for a moment and then faces the boy, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

“I didn’t like it when you touched me.” She says calmly, but Asahi notices the slight tremor in her hands. “You may be better at chemistry than me, but that doesn’t mean you get to use that as an advantage to invade my space. You don’t get to do that.”

The temperature in the room _drops;_ Hinata’s normally warm demeanor gave way to a bone chilling grimace. 

“Don’t do it again.” She warns with a scowl that would make Tanaka proud. “To anyone.”

The boy nods jerkily, and her countenance thaws, just slightly with a quirk if her lips into an almost-smile. 

She charts off to a different study corner, and Asahi follows in suit. Once they settle down in their seats, he realizes that he’s been glaring the entire time; his face twitches at holding the foreign frown lines.

Hinata notices when he drops the scowl. “Wow Asahi-san, I’ve never seen your scary face before. It was very _GAH_ !” Her hands flail to represent what a _‘GAH’_ face was.

“...Thank you?”

“Of course!” 

He opens his laptop, but finds himself simply staring at the blank screen, hands unable to type out his essay. 

Hinata cracks open her textbook, gently thumbing through the pages before she adds.

“Thank you Asahi-san.” Her voice is much softer, but she remains fixed on the book in front of her. “You’re kinda like my hero now.” 

His chest was warm and bright at the declaration.“‘It’s no problem.”

Had she looked up from her textbook she would see the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, ones he violently blinked back. Hinata would have also seen Tanaka and Nishinoya drag the handsy first year from his seat, the boy was wise enough to submit to Nishinoya and Tanaka’s attack dog aura.

The libero surveys the room and shoots Asahi an all too innocent thumbs up as he yanks the first year out the door. Tanaka nods in approval at the sight of an unharmed Hinata. 

Asahi’s phone buzzes a moment later.

_ > Tanaka Ryuunosuke: You did good. _

It was followed by a ‘proud of you’ GIF.

He slides his phone in his pocket, a soft smile playing on his lips. For once in his life, Asahi feels worthy of the complement. 

His phone then successively pings with a spam of incoming messages; he could feel the urgency from the texts that fire back and forth.

Asahi thinks it’s Tanaka again, and he’s somewhat correct. It’s a group message, one Tanaka created for the ‘secret mission’. 

Asahi excuses himself from the table.

“Everything okay, Asahi-san?” Hinata asks.

“Just fine.” He sends her his most confident grin, which probably came off more as a grimace. Once he’s out of her sight he begins reading the messages.

_ > Daichi Sawamura: Just got wind that Hinata may be getting another confession soon. A big one. _

_ > Tanaka Ryuunosuke: NOOO!!! _

Tanaka then sends a sobbing GIF.

_ > Nishinoya Yuu: DAMNIT _

Asahi briefly wonders how the two manage to rough up the first year and text in the group message at the same time, and then he remembers who he’s dealing with. The next message rips him out of his reverie.

_ > Tsukishima Kei: how soon is soon? _

_ > Daichi Sawamura: One week tops. _

Asahi slowly types his question, not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

_ > Asahi Azumane: Who’s the confession coming from? _

A pregnant pause fills the line.

_ > Daichi Sawamura: We can’t exactly confirm who, but our intel narrowed it down to handful of students... _

_ > Kageyama Tobio: just say it Daichi-san. _

_ > Nishinoya Yuu: WE CAN TAKE IT _

_ > Daichi Sawamura:... it’s a member from her fanclub. _

Asahi almost drops his phone.

_ > Suguwara Koushi: Well fuck. _

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL. I am BLOWN away by the positive responses this little fic has gotten. Thank you so so much for your kind words, they make my heart go UWAH <3

The president of Hinata’s fanclub regards Tanaka and Nishinoya cooly behind her thickly rimmed glasses, her long brown hair plaited immaculately in a whiplike coil that cascades down her uniform.

“You’ve got the wrong club.” She deadpans, swinging her locker shut in a ‘case closed’ manner.

“Don’t play coy with us Miyuki-san.” Nishinoya swivels an accusatory finger her way. “ You’re the president of her  _ fan club _ . It’s the perfect position to allow you to confess to Hinata.” 

His statement starts off strong but peters off to more of a question when the president dissolves into a fit of poorly repressed giggles.

“The whole point of our fan club is to admire Hinata  _ and _ her volleyball career.” Miyuki says. She slowly regains her composure, the professional facade setting back into place. “Dating her will only limit her volleyball time which directly opposes the objective of our club.” 

Tanaka refuses to give up so soon. “Then who was writing the confession letters to Hinata? We found some drafts in the room  _ your club _ meets in.” He pulls up a picture of a computer screen with the aforementioned letters; the president snatches the phone to further inspect the image.

She frowns at the screen. “Hmm. Our club doesn’t _ do _ letters. Hinata is more of a food or poster kind of person anyways.” She hands the phone back. “A typed confession isn’t exactly her love language.” 

“And even if we  _ did _ type up that confession, my team values authenticity. It’s a hard and fast rule that handwritten confessions are  _ way _ more romantic than typed ones.” She sniffs, offended at being considered the culprit of such a bland crime of passion.

Tanaka and Nishinoya share a look. Miyuki is spot on, but this revelation left more questions than answers. The bell rings alerting for the next class change in five minutes.

Well now they’re back to square one. 

The crushing weight of failing Hinata  _ again _ smacked the smug smiles off their face. Call it what you want: pride, stubbornness, stupidity, or some combination of the three— but two  _ specifically _ asked to follow this lead, eager to avenge themselves. Only to crash and burn before they had a chance to take off.

Miyuki looks to her class and then back at them, pinching the bridge of her nose at the headache that was bound to form after talking to the pair.

“I’d check the computer, whoever typed this may have forgotten to log out.” She advises reluctantly.

Miyuki slings her backpack over her shoulder, a #10 keychain dangling on the zipper. “And if I were you, I’d worry less about the fan club, and more about the guy confessing to her right now.” 

She turns and treks off to her next class, her braid cracking through the air, nearly whipping the two in the face.

“Well this is a start.” Nishoya says half-heartedly as they trudge over to the confession at hand, but even the helpful suggestion couldn’t raise their spirits. If there’s one thing Nishinoya and Tanaka despise, it’s feeling helpless, and that disarming sensation is exactly what they felt when trying to identify the elusive confessor. It was like trying to punch smoke.

They didn’t even bother conjuring their hallmark  _ backoff _ stares. Nonetheless, the boy scrambles out of the way, muttering a quick goodbye before booking it down the hall.

Tanaka grunts, robotically ruffling his kouhai’s hair. Hinata picks up on their lowered spirits and edges the basket closer to her two upperclassmen.

“Here.” She firmly places the pork buns in their hands before they could object. “It looks like it’s been a two pork bun kind of day.”

If only she knew.

-

It turns out, their suspected culprit did  _ not _ log out of the computer.

However, that reveals little to nothing, seeing as the only information Tanaka and Nishinoya gather was a school ID, which consists of a slew of meaningless numbers; the other promising find is an outdated email of  _ monhun@email.com _ which unfortunately,  _ was _ logged out of.

They tell Daichi this in between class change. The three tuck themselves away in a corner of the hallway, making the interaction look exaggeratedly sketchy considering the content of their conversation.

“So our leads on Miyuki were a fake.” Daichi says troublingly. “That makes identifying this  _ ‘Monhun’ _ individual a priority.”

Tanaka glares at the wall. “What kind of lame username is  _ Monhun _ anyway.” He kicks said wall petulantly. “How old are they, like ten?”

Nishinoya snaps his fingers together. “Monster Hunter!” He shouts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Daich and Tanaka send him a concerned glance. The libero rolls his eyes, unperturbed. “Remeber the game  _ Monster Hunter _ ? We used to play it all the time in middle school.”

Tanaka’s eyes brighten at the realization. “And the kids who were obsessed with it always called it  _ Monhun _ .”

“I know who to call.” Daichi says immediately and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts and hitting the call button.

“Hey Kuroo, is Kenma around? We need a favor.” 

A sarcastic voice protests through the line. 

“I know, I know. But tell him it has to deal with Hinata.” Daichi says knowingly.

  
They hear a muffled conversation, and then. “What happened to Shouyou?” Kenma asks sharply.

-

“Wow Kenma-san you work quick!” Nishinoya complements as he watches the Nekoma setter through the small screen of his videochat.

Kenma grunts, hands flying across the keyboard as he continues to click through the  _ Monster Hunter  _ database.

“That’s his way of saying thank you.” Kuroo translates, his ruffled hair pops into view as he gives the crew a cheshire smile.

“Found it.” Kenma says, turning the camera to this computer screen.

The setter split the screen with two tabs: one containing the gaming sight and the other linking to a black and green screen that had a jumble of words neither Karasuno boy could make out other than the user information. The email and city district matches traces back to Karasuno High. Jackpot.

Kenma roves the site, deciphering a language only he could understand. “There are some other drafts that say the confession is going to happen after practice in the,” Kenma pauses, “East Wing of the school two days from now.”

It felt as if the universe let out a sigh of relief; they still had time to make things right.

“That’s where the vending machines are.” Daichi supplies, looking like a weight was lifted off his chest. “Hinata normally grabs a snack there after practice.”

Tanaka frowns, not wanting to celebrate yet. “But  _ who _ are they?”

The video pans back to Kenma’s indifferent stare, but there was a slight furrow in his brow; a tensness to his shoulders which reveals his concern. “I’ll need time to try out some passwords, or to reroute the email information to my account.” He clicks on some other links.

“Give me until after practice.” Kenma says, his eyes slide to them for a brief second. “And keep Shouyou safe.”

It was the most emotion they had ever seen out of Nekoma’s setter. 

“Yeah!” Kuroo chimes in from somewhere in the back. “I still wanna stuff block your short-stack.” 

And with those parting words, the call ends.

-

The day drags on after that. 

Daichi urges them to let the matter go for now and focus on their school work, but it’s all in vain. Nishinoya can barely focus in his classes, and Tanaka ran into a wall, twice; his mind fixed on the impending confession. 

Practice was a much needed outlet. The two played their hearts out, converting their stress into wicked receives and jaw dropping attacks. Even the other players noticed the endless energy.

“ _ UWAH! _ You guys are so cool!” Hinata gushes as they file out of the school. “You have to teach me that line shot Tanaka-san! And Noya-san, how did you do that one arm receive?!” 

The two preen, putting on a show of exaggerated humility as they see her off to her bike in much better spirits. 

They reach Ukai’s convenience store when Tanakas’s phone buzzes. “Hey Kenma-san, what’s the sitch?”

“Where’s Shouyou?” Was the first thing out of the setter’s mouth.

Tanaka puts the call on speaker phone, already backtracking to Karasuno. “Heading to the vending machine, why?”

He hears aggressive typing and then, “The author’s name is Sakai Jun. I found all the copies of her past confession letters.” They hear more clicking sounds. “This is way too planned out for my liking.” Kenma mutters to himself.

“Uh oh, Kenma’s using his  _ bad news _ voice.” He says to Nishinoya who trails behind the wing spiker. 

Tanaka adjusts his grip on the phone. “To be fair Kenma-san, the letters said it would happen two days from now,  _ of course _ it’s planned out. ”

“About that.” A clatter happens on the other line. “Those were old copies. It’s happening today.” 

The two sped into a light jog, but they could hear a hum of hesitation through the phone. There was more to the story.

Nishinoya takes the phone, his mouth pressed into a harsh line. “What else did you find, Kenma-san.” 

“...Sakai wrote more than just confession letters.” This time it’s Kuroo who speaks.

“There are threats.” Kenma growls out, not bothering to hide his disgust. “Documents dedicated to bashing Shouyou.” 

Tanaka’s pulse plummets and skyrockets at the same time, slingshotting him through the five stages of grief. He lands on anger.

“Why would Sakai write confession letters if she hates Hinata?” Nishinoya asks, almost running full tilt.

“Oh no.” Tanaka misses a step, icy spiderwebs of alarm creep up his spine. “The confession letters weren’t for Hinata.They were a decoy for us.”

“The best way to steal someone’s wallet is to tell them you’re going to steal their watch.” Kenma says grimly. More movement fills the line, followed by Kenna’s soft cursing. “She isn’t answering my calls, and Shouyou always picks up.” 

The unspoken implication crashes into them like a freight train.

“We’re gonna find her.” Tanaka ends the call.

Their lungs scream for air with every desperate stride, but the need to get to Hinata bellows louder than their aching muscles. The East Wing is on the opposite side of the gymnasium and school entrance, that fact alone has blood pounding in their ears only rivaled by the thundering sound of their hearts slamming in their rib cages.

_ We can’t fail her. Not again. _

An ear splitting screech of a motorcycle breaking cuts through the air. Their world tilts, and from one moment to the next, they find themselves looking at the sky, pressed flat on their backs. Dust chokes their air deprived lungs as the smell of burnt rubber assaults their noses. But the two’s attention were fixed on the twinkling #10 keychain of the driver who sprints to their prone figures.

“What the hell!” Miyuki shouts, but it comes out more concerned than angry. The cussing out of care eerily reminds Tanaka of Saeko, and if he hadn’t just seen his life flash before his eyes, he would have told her that.

“I could’ve run you two over!” Miyuki screeches and looks them over for visible injuries; her poised demeanor flying out the window, as does her normally censored language. “For  _ once _ in your  _ goddamn fuckin _ lives can you use your— wait what’s wrong?” 

“It was a fake. The letter.” Nishinoya grits out, already on his feet. He scrambles for words to describe the situation, but abandons the effort and settles on. “Hinata’s in trouble, someone’s out for her.”

“We’re not hurt, Miyuki-san, really.” Tanaka adds in hopes to calm her down. “But we could really use your help. I don’t wanna be  _ that _ guy, but since you  _ did _ almost run us over with your motorcycle, could you spare a ride for your favorite volleyball players?” He cracks a smirk that makes Miyuki wish she’d run him over. 

Miyuki scoffs and throws them spare helmets. “Just get on.” 

Once they clamor aboard, she takes off to the South Wing.

“Hinata’s in the East Wing!” Tanaka yells over the engine. A sharp turn has him swallowing a mouthful of her braid.

“No. I saw her going to the courtyard.” Miyuki says. The two are still recovering from their almost collision— and Tanaka from impromptu hairball— but it was her next words that stole the breath out of their lungs. 

“And she wasn’t alone.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, comments, concerns, cusswords? I wanna know! 
> 
> Thanks again for taking the time to read, and I'm working on the next part, so I don't leave you guys at a cliffhanger for too long :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of your comments make my heart SOAR with happiness. Thank you so much for your kind words, I'm giving you all a big virtual hug right now!
> 
> Also, next update will be Thursday, July 30th :)

Hinata doesn’t think about luck often.

The concept made life too contingent on chance and chance alone. It felt arbitrary; simplifying heartache, success, and resilience into a universal lottery.   
  


A soft spoken and knowing part of her mind, one Hinata firmly tucks away, has a different slant on her courtship with fortune. Because maybe— just maybe— she doesn’t tip her hat to Lady Luck because if did Hinata think of the world in terms of luck, she would label herself unlucky.

This is her train of thought as she faceplants off her bike into an unsuspecting clump of bushes. Her half empty sports drink sailing through the air, but not before it empties its artificially colored _Roarin’ Tsunami_ contents on her practice shirt, her favorite _white_ practice shirt.

She does her butchered job of Nishoya’s rolling thunder and then clamors onto her bike, more than ready to go home and change out of her sticky clothes. That’s when she notices the dangling chain clearly amputated from the wheels. Needless to say, she will not be biking home today. 

She can practically hear the universe laughing at her. 

Undeterred, she reaches for her phone, ready to call her mom for a ride back. Her hand grips emptiness, flashes of her phone perched on her kitchen countertop mock her.

“Well poop.” She says to the universe. 

And that’s when she notices she has company.

Hinata recognizes the girl instantly; afterall, there aren’t many athletes who are shorter than her, so the few that are remained burned in Hinata’s memory.

Twin braids narrow into dagger-like points, slicing the air as the girl strides forward. Sakai Jun, is a prodigy at well… everything. She skipped two years of middle school, launching her into Hinata’s grade, but Sakai was most impressively recognized for her calculated coups on unsuspecting club presidents. Sakai successfully dethroned the math, archery, and theatre clubs original leaders and respective ace’s; all of which earned her the title of the Ice Queen of Karasuno.

“Hinata Shouyou,” Sakai jabs a finger in Hinata's face. “I challenge you.” 

Hinata blinks. Yes, she’s had rivals before, but no one has ever opposed her so openly. Normally, she’s the one throwing down the proverbial gauntlet, so this was refreshing and thrilling and well, _fun_. It looks like her luck was turning around.

Hinata clasps the girl’s outstretched hand in an overly enthusiastic handshake, stained shirt and broken bike completely forgotten.

“I accept!” She says, her face splitting with a smile, still shaking her rival's hand.

Sakai snatches back the limb and sniffs. “Good.” She then raises her fists and drops into a crouch. 

Hinata tips her head to the side, confused. “What are you doing, Sakai-san?”

“Fighting you!” Sakai splutters, jabbing at the air with impressive accuracy. “I want to be the superior athlete at Karasuno High, and you’re the next challenger I have to beat.” She strikes the air once more.

Hinata decides to not mention Kageyama, Daichi, or the other athletes who she regards in higher esteem than herself. If Sakai deems Hinata a worthy opponent, then where’s the harm in that.

Briefly she thinks the younger girl reminds Hinata of herself, ready to put her skills to the test with anyone who would give her the time of day. And today, the universe granted Hinata this pigtail braided, silver tongued, first year. 

“Sakai, Sakai, Sakai,” she tutts in a poorly configured mask of wisdom, waggling her finger like Sugawara did after Hinata openly challenged Ushijima.

“If you want to beat me, you have to do it at a competition _I_ excel at. Physically fighting me will prove nothing.” Hinata shrugs one shoulder. “It’ll be an empty victory, and you don’t seem like a person who wants an easy win, hm?”

Sakai furrows her brows, clearly taken aback.

“Well, no I don't.” She finally concedes as if the thought never occurred to her. The younger girl sizes Hinata up, not completely convinced. “What game are you playing at Hinata? You’re not trying to make a fool out of me are you?” 

Sakai’s words may be clinical and cold in content, but there was an undercurrent of apprehension in her voice.

Hinata is appalled, and it shows in her response. “No! I promise I’m not!” She takes Sakai’s hands in her own. The two are almost nose to nose. A startled flush creeps up the younger girl’s neck, but she doesn’t remove her hands. “I would never disrespect a challenger like that.” Hinata puts hand on her chest. “I _promise_ I won’t go easy on you, Sakai-san.” Hinata swears. Sakai blinks aggressively.

Hinata steps aside to brainstorm possible solutions. “You don’t happen to play volleyball, do you?” The other girl mutely shakes her head no. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Hinata consoles with a wink when an idea strikes her. ““How about a jumping competition?” Without confirming with the other girl, Hinata picks up her discarded bike and charts off to the South Wing where the basketball nets lie. 

Bringing up the challenge jolts Sakai out of her silence.

“You’re on!” Sakai spits and scrambles to catch up with Hinata who strolls along the empty corridors like she has all the time in the world.

The courtyard became their arena. They were two athletes battling for supremacy, and one challenge simply wasn’t enough to ebb their endless hunger.

Sakai performs similar to Tsukishima. A cerebral mind calculating and executing rapid movements with deadly efficiency and a frosty demeanor which is the crown jewel for the Ice Queen of Karasuno. But if Sakai’s nature was that of a winter storm, cold and unrelenting, Hinata’s was that of a wild fire. An eternal inferno who consumes and consumes and consumes. Her body became energy itself. Bright and bold and blazing everywhere. Sakai simply added fuel to the fire.

Hinata soundly wins every challenge.

They end with a final sprint to Ukai’s store.

Hinata tries to become the wind itself, but Sakai is a blizzard. The younger girl’s palms smack onto the convenience store’s walls seconds before Hinata’s.

“Wow Sakai-san you’re really fast!” 

The younger girl says nothing and plops to the floor, not nearly as happy as Hinata would’ve anticipated. “Don’t mock me.” She kicks a pebble, satisfied with how it clatters against the gutters in a cacophony of metal clangs.

Hinata frowns, sliding beside her. “I wasn’t mocking you, I was being honest,” she says. Hinata sets her head back against the brick and looks at Sakai from her peripheral vision. “I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”

Several cars pass by, and Hinata swears she hears familiar shouting somewhere in the distance. 

“...Did _you_ have fun, Sakai-san?” She asks after counting to ten in her head.

Sakai shrinks, shoulders bowing low in defeat. “You beat me so many times. I just won once.” She admits shamefully and tucks her head into her knees.“ I got lucky.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Hinata says softly and then adds, “Anyways, I don’t think you just got lucky.” Hinata jumps onto her feet, shaking out the pins and needles which buzz numbly in her legs. “And I think you know it too.” 

She offers a hand to Sakai who looks at the limb, confused. “Come on,” Hinata says. “I’m going to buy us some celebratory pork buns.” It’s what Tanaka and Nishinoya did whenever Hinata was in a funk. 

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Tears well up in Sakai’s eyes.

“You aren’t supposed to be nice!” Sakai protests angrily, smacking Hinata’s hand away like it burned her. “You’re supposed to gloat and tell me that _I got lucky_!” 

Hinata stares in horror at the tears that race down Sakai’s crumpled expression, fierce scowl still stubbornly in place. “You’re supposed to say that because you’re older than me, any win I get is because _you_ slipped up— not because I was good enough.” Sakai finishes; she looks so much younger now.

The words strike a tender spot in Hinata’s heart, and for a moment Sakai’s eyes turn to an amber shade, her brown hair becomes bright orange in the dwindling daylight. Hinata had seen this girl in the mirror many times. Hinata moves. She embraces Sakai, embraces the girl in the mirror in a tight hug.

“I wrote letters bashing you.” Sakai’s voice was muffled in the crook of Hinata’s neck. “You had what I wanted, and more.” 

Sakai sniffles and slowly steps out of the hug, one of her braids becomes undone. “I thought if I could beat you I could show them that it was worth the sacrifice. That the Ice Queen didn’t need to be nice to get her way.” 

Hinata remains silent, letting the sadness bleed out of the other girl in clumps and clots. “What was that about empty victories?” Sakai says wetly and wipes at her eyes, a small chuckle escaping her lips. 

Hinata soon joins and their broken— and slightly hysterical —laughter fills the sidewalks, a warm balm to the broken spaces in their hearts.

Hinata slings an easy arm over her shoulders and guides them to the store entrance. “If you want to talk about losses, boy, _oh boy_ do I have some stories to tell you.” Sakai gives an almost-smile. It’s a start.

“Shouyou?” A voice cuts in from behind them. Hinata brightens at the familiar lilt of the speaker, one that always spoke as if they were indifferently sighing at the world.

“Kenma!” Hinata shouts, sprinting to meet and hug Nekoma’s setter. She then remembers Kenma isn’t a huge fan of physical affection and moves to step away and apologize, but he surprises her— and possibly himself— by returning the embrace, fiercely. 

“What are you doing here?” She breaks away to look over his shoulders while his eyes rove over her mud stained face, it’s almost as if he were inspecting her for injuries. “ Is your team doing extra conditioning?” She asks.

“No, just me.” He says, wearily eyeing Sakai, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Oh how rude of me!” Hinata breaks the staring match and gestures to the younger girl. “Kenma this is my friend Sakai.”

Kenma stills at that. Even though he’s quiet, his presence seems louder than normal, Hinata will ask him about that when the two are alone. “Sakai, this is my friend Kozume Kenma from Nekoma High.”

“Nice to meet you Sakai-san,” Kenma says quietly, Sakai returns the polite greeting. 

To his credit, he takes in Hinata’s stained shirt, Sakai’s messy hair, and Hinata’s ear to ear smile with the same neutral expression that Hinata has come to know and love.

“So you’re okay?” Kenma asks a second later, obviously referring to their unkempt states.

“We are right as rain!” Hinata chirps. “Right Sakai-san?” The girl mumbles a half hearted agreement and Hinata beams. Kenma’s shoulders loosen at the affirmation.

Kenma does another once over, pausing on her shirt.

Hinata remembers the vibrant blue stain on her practice tee, it now took on a slightly green tinge. She looked like the personification of Kageyama’s volleyball shoes after a match. All in all, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Well for the most part,” she amends, “but some casualties happen.” She shrugs but Kenma is already taking off his Nekoma jacket.

“For the stain.” He says as he fastens the sleeves over her arms. It renders Hinata silent. An unhealthy amount of blood rushes to her cheeks turning her as red as the jacket itself.

“Uhhh we’re— we’re going to get some pork buns, would you like some?” Hinata asks, her body tuning in to her stomach rather than her heart. She’s positively famished.

“No thank you.” Kenma then pulls out his phone and begins typing a lengthy worded message, but even the phone's white light couldn’t mask the shy blush which tinted his cheeks.

Hinata shrugs good naturedly and leads Sakai to their well earned treat as she looks at the on sale convenience store delicacies. 

Hinata misses how Kenma looks up from his device, a soft, almost unfamiliar smile curling on his lips at the red jacket she wears. She also misses the pointed two fingered _I’ll be watching you_ gesture Sakai gives Kenma.

What she _does_ see is the long awaited two for one sale on her favorite pork buns.

If Hinata ever decided to think about her life in terms of luck, she would wager that Lady Luck was in her corner, at least for today.

-

“Crisis averted,” Nishinoya breathes a heavy sigh of relief at Kenma’s text. A pinch of disappointment pokes in his chest at having been too late again, but he will gladly put aside his pride for Hinata's wellbeing. Now to tell the others.

Tanaka and Miyuki argue in the background about the controversial short cut which hooked them to the West Wing of the school. By the time they reached the dreaded South Wing, there wasn’t a Hinata in sight. The three drove around every inch of the Karasuno High, nerves fried and tempers rising. 

Nishinoya clears his throat and repeats. “I _said_ : crisis averted!” The two finally stop their bickering when Nishinoya shoves his phone in their faces. 

“Oh thank goodness for Kenma-san.” Tanaka sighs heavily, clutching his chest. “I think I lost ten years off my life.”

Nishinoya’s phone buzzes with an alert.

“Oh come on!” Tanaka whines and stamps his foot.

“I’ve done my part,” Miyuki says, tailing it to her motorcycle. She sends them a mock salute. “Good luck you guys, you’re gonna need it.” And with that she takes off.

Nishoya gathers his remaining courage and looks at the dreaded device.

_Notification: Training camp at Igu High is TOMORROW._

Immediately, the group chat is flooded.

_ > Sugawara Koushi: I’m sure you all got the notification… _

_ > Kageyama Tobio: i don’t feel so good _

_ > Asahi Azumane: AHHHHH _

_[Cut for length]_

_ > Daichi Sawamura: I think we need to expand our group. It would be wise to have an extra set of eyes for the trip. It already helped to have Kenma-san. _

_ > Nishinoya Yuu: YEAH KENMA-SAN TOTALLY COVERED OUR ASSES!! _

_ > Kozume Kenma: thanks _

_ > Sugawara Koushi: Language! _

_ > Sugawara Koushi: But I agree, the more the merrier! _

_Kageyama Tobio and seven other people emphasized “But I agree, the more the merrier!”._

_ > Daichi Sawamura: Alrighty then. _

_Daichi Sawamura added an unknown number to the group._

_ > Unknown: HEY HEY HEY!! _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was more focused on Hinata’s character and personal growth!! It’s funny how Hinata easily wields the “Power of Friendship” and her attempt at being a great senpai.
> 
> The next installation will be centered around other familiar volleyball faces and their interactions with our little sun :)
> 
> If you drop a comment, I WILL get back to you!! I love talking Haikyuu or just life with my peeps :3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shoutout to SaintedStars for recommending the interactions I base this chapter off of :)

Bokuto is trying his best, really he is.

And deep down, he likes to think his best is good enough. His efforts paved the way for him to be Fukurodani’s team captain, one of the top five aces in Japan, and most importantly, it earned him the title of being Akaashi Keiji’s boyfriend.

Naturally, Bokuto goes about defending Hinata’s honor in the only way he knows how to: by giving it his all.

The first day of camp he karate chops the air between Hinata and a boy from Igu's team. The suspect claim to be seeking ‘spiking tips’ from Hinata, but Bokuto remains unconvinced. Bokuto used that same strategy to flirt with Akaashi last week. During warm ups, he football tackles an Ubugawa member when he was getting too handsy with Hinata during partner stretching; the startled second year couldn’t get a good serve in after the fateful collision. And don't get Bokuto _started_ when Hinata gives Kenma his jacket back. There’s only so much a man can take.

But the real trouble came in on the second day of camp.

“I thought Seijoh wasn’t supposed to be here!” Bokuto whisper-yells to Akaashi during their ball warmups. 

“Their original training camp facility got flooded.” Akaashi says with a shrug and tosses the ball to Bokuto.

He barely feels the volleyball it his head, eyes locked on Oikawa who strolls into the auditorium like he owns the place. “But why’d they have to choose this one!”

Thankfully, Karasuno is on their conditioning run, so that means he still has time to get Seijoh’s setter back on their bus before—

“Chibi-chan!” 

Bokuto’s life flashes before his eyes as Oikawa drops his bags and crosses the stadium to hug Hinata, with _both_ arms. Thankfully, Bokuto is not the only one with a visceral reaction. Nekoma’s silence seems much more intimidating than the sputtered wheeze that escapes Bokuto’s throat. On his left he can feel the biting chill from Dateko’s court. It’s Iwaizumi who saves the day with a firm smack to Oikawa’s head.

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” He cries out, attempting to coif his precious locks. 

Things only spiral downward from there.

It starts at lunch.

“Hina-chan, you have some food right,” Oikawa’s fingers brush away the nonexistent smudge on Hinata’s cheekbone, “there.” 

Hinata, bless her heart, shrugs one shoulder and offers a thanks through her mouthful of food. Bokuto, however, chokes on his onigiri. Akaashi has to give him the Heimlich maneuver, twice.

Warm ups are even worse. 

“Chibi-chan, let’s be stretching partners!” Oikawa chirps and loops their arms together. 

Kenma audibly hisses, and Sugawara spits out his water from the other side of the court. 

“Actually,” Bokuto intervenes and slides his arm between the two, his larger bicep awkwardly tangling between their limbs. “I was going to show Hinata some killer cross shots! How do you like the sound of that?!” 

“Really?!” Hinata’s eyes sparkle with their own little suns. That’s his disciple alright.

Oikawa remains the picture of innocence as he bats his eyelashes at Bokuto. “She should stretch first then go and learn some new cut shots. You wouldn’t want her pulling a muscle, right?” 

His silence is enough of an answer for Oikawa who is full on beaming. Bokuto’s arm drops down from his hold on the pair.

“What’s with the scowl Kenma-san?” Oikawa prods as he leads the two towards the court. True to his word, Kenma is openly glaring at their linked arms. “You were her partner for the morning session, can’t you share?” Oikawa teases.

“No.” 

Oikawa shrugs and gives an exaggerated pageant wave as he totes the redhead away.

It’s after dinner where Bokuto decides enough is enough.

The charm of Igu High comes from the integration of nature and the school itself. Vines weave their way seamlessly from the forest— a place all of the teams have become unfortunately acquainted with on their conditioning runs. It’s hard to tell where the forest stops and the school grounds begin.

Tree limbs slither up walkways; their long forms stretching towards the sun in a curtain of gnarled branches. Clusters of flowers scatter across the wooden tapestry much like the constellations paint the night sky, kissing the quiet earth in gentle streams of petals. It’s a scene straight out of those dastardly Shoujo Manga scenes.

This leads Bokuto to his current situation as he stumbles through the foliage like a newly born fawn. The “charming” vines tangle into his own limbs; one devious branch tucks itself into the nook of his ankle. He crashes to the ground. Hard. Undeterred, Bokuto slaps his hands to the floor, using the fall as momentum to jet off to his target. 

He bursts through the bushes like a cop who just busted a multi-million dollar drug run.

“Hey hey hey!” He revels in the flash of annoyance in Oikawa’s eyes. Not today. “Hinata, how about we practice those cross shots since you’re already warmed up!” He says a little too excitedly.

“Oh yeah!” She jumps up ready to go, but then looks to Oikawa. “Sorry Oikawa-san, I promised Bokuto I’d let him teach me, but we can go on our walk another time!” 

Bokuto may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he has a strong suspicion Oikawa’s idea of a walk did not entail a mere stroll.

The setter gives a gentle smile, and Bokuto almost thinks it's genuine. This look was new and soft and reminds Bokuto of how Akaashi looks at him. He viciously shakes his head, Bokuto can’t be sidetracked, he’s on a mission after all.

The setter boops Hinata on the nose, unperturbed. “No worries Chibi-chan, I’m in no rush.” 

Whether or not Oikawa’s intentions were pure still doesn’t change the fact that Bokuto breathes a little easier when the setter is out of sight. 

“So what’s the secret to your cutshot Bokuto-san?” Hinata asks. The two are side by side, lazily strolling through the path Bokuto bulldozed down moments earlier. It’s cute how she subtly mimics the swing of his arms and his swagger of his gait; she really was a mini-Bokuto. He figures he can give her a little hint, from one Bokuto to another.

He looks around to make sure no one can hear this top secret information. “You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

She holds up her finger. “I pinky promise.” He withholds the squeal that threatens to escape his throat (just barely) and seals the deal.

“It’s all about the flick of the wrist.” He demonstrates the maneuver, letting his thumb lead the downward descent. “That’s how you’ll get the ball to curve right down the line like POW!” 

She follows his approach, her eyes darting from his hand to his shoulder, watching like her life depended on it. If Bokuto weren’t her mentor, he would have shrunk under her stare. Her gaze was as intense as the surface of the sun.

She blinks and then, “GAH, SO COOL BOLUTO-SAN!” Her scalding heat simmers to a warm flame.

“I KNOW RIGHT!”

The two are overcome with a childlike wonder as they practice their mock swing. Occasionally surveying the area to make sure their approach stays a secret. A reasonable assumption considering how much noise they were making, but containing their constant peals of laughter would be like telling the stars not to shine.

Bokuto arcs his arm through the air, wind whistling through his palms. “Did you see that Hinata?” He stalls when he realizes she isn’t there.

“Hinata?” His world comes to a screeching halt at the sight of Hinata crumpled on the ground, foot unsettling twisted in a thick vine.

A heartbeat later, she’s on her feet. “I’m fine, I’m fine!”

Bokuto immediately notices her stance. Her right leg supporting the brunt of her weight. His eyes trail down to her ankle which was hovering over the ground, angry red marks flare against her skin. 

He crosses the distance in two frantic strides. Bokuto opens his mouth, ready to go through his medical checklist in the peak example of professionalism, but then her nose starts bleeding— no, _gushing_ in streaks of scarlet. It’s not the red he wants to see.

“HINATA!” His hands feather around her face, unsure of what to do.

“I heard a— Chibi-chan!” Oikawa peeks out of the bushes and surges to her. For once, Bokuto is glad for the setter’s presence. 

“Tilt your head forward and pinch here,” Oikawa instructs then he looks to Bokuto. This was the setter Bokuto was used to. “We need to take her to the nurse. Now.” Bokuto manages a nod.

“I’m really okay, guys.” Hinata’s voice is nasally through her pinched fingers. “I think I just rolled it.”

Oikawa looks unconvinced. “The nurse will be the judge of that. You just sit tight and let me carry you.” He bends down to pick her up in a bridal style carry.

Now _that_ snapped Bokuto out of his silence. 

“Actually I can carry her.” He squats, ready to offer her the best piggyback ride of her life. Sparks fly at the ensuing staring match.

Hinata’s laugh sounds like a broken car engine, all splutters and huffs. The sound eases the mounting tension. “You should see both of your faces,” she wheezes behind her pinched nose. Bokuto can’t help but crack a grin, and even Oikawa’s eyes sparkle in amusement. Once she calms herself down, she proposes an idea of her own. 

To the outsider, the trio looks comical.

Hinata hung off both Oikawa and Bokuto’s tall frames, her legs suspended in the air while her arms latched on to the backs of their necks. She claimed she didn’t need to be carried, insisting they could be her crutches. However, the compromise still left her dangling as the two hoisted her to Igu’s gym, not that they were going to tell her that.

After a wicked abuse of puppy eyes, the third years obliged Hinata's request of not seeing a nurse. She was adamant that it was a rolled ankle, showcasing how she can stand and jump per usual. Bokuto only conceded after Oikawa’s intensive examination. The setter was impressively well versed in first aid and injuries. Allegedly, Hinata was okay as long as she iced and rested the ankle.

Bokuto reminds himself of this as he throws himself on his sleeping mat. His hands twitch, longing to spike a cross shot at the vine that nearly took out his kouhai.

“Bokuto you’re awfully quiet today.” Akaashi remarks from the cot beside him, gently turning the page in his book.

“M’ fine.” He mumbles into the pillow.

He hears Akaashi close the book. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Oikawa’s flirting with Hinata would it? Or how Hinata rolled her ankle?”

Bokuto offers an unconvincing shake of his head. He feels the bed dip beside him; a starburst of warmth settles on his back in a familiar handprint. Akaashi can read him as easily as the book in his hands.

“Give Hinata more credit,” Akaashi hums, “she seems to like volleyball more than anything. She is your student after all.” Bokuto slowly tilts his head so he can peer at his boyfriend. He savors the slow circles that warm his back. “And give yourself more credit too, no one says you have to do this alone. Daichi already reached out to the rest of the team to see if we can help—”

Bokuto shoots up from the bed. “Daichi did what?”

“He asked our team if we could keep an eye out for Hinata.” Akaashi says slowly.

Bokuto burrows into his pillow once more. “He doesn’t think I can do this.” He says, crestfallen.

“That’s not what he meant by it.”

“I can’t blame him,” Bokuto continues, his mood plummeting, “I already managed to pull a Bokuto with Hinata rolling her ankle.”

“...pull a Bokuto?”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Oh come on Akaashi, you hear the locker room talk.” 

Bokuto shifts so he’s on his back. “It’s what the other second years call it when I try to help out but make things worse. Like when I ran back to the bus to get the first aid kit but you guys needed the net equipment, or when I made peanut butter cookies for the team and figured out you were allergic to peanuts.” He gestures around the room. “And now this.”

Akaashi remains silent, gathering his thoughts, but Bokuto can’t bring himself to hear his boyfriend's verdict.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now Akaashi.” He rolls over to the wall. Akaashi stays for a moment, and then lifts off the bed, giving Bokuto a chaste kiss to the temple. 

Bokuto’s mood leaks into his playing.

He’s heavy footed, sluggish, and overall uncoordinated, even his hair wilts under his sour mood. It doesn’t help that he’s partnered with Oikawa for this drill. 

Hinata offers him some encouragement from where she and Kenma are training.

“You can do it Bokuto-san!!” The smile he sends her doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hinata focus on yourself for a little,” Kenma chastises, but his words come out more concerned than irritiated. “You’re not jumping as high as you normally do.”

She cracks a sheepish grin and sends Bokuto one last thumbs up before resuming the setting drill.

Heat stings at his cheek when a ball smacks him upside the head. 

“What was that for?!” Bokuto whines.

The setter lazily plucks the ball from the ground, ignoring his remark.

“You were sulking.” Oikawa spins the ball in his hands and chucks it at Bokuto once more. “Stop it.”

“I wasn’t sulking. Hey! Stop throwing balls at me!” 

“Then stop moping around.” Another ball smacks him in the chest, and it kind of hurt too. Much like Oikawa’s serves, the throws are coupled with dangerous levels of accuracy and power. If Bokuto weren’t dodging balls for the life of him, he’d say Oikawa’s enjoying this.

But maybe Oikawa had a point, Bokuto _was_ moping a little bit. A setting drill could do him some good, take his mind off things. Oikawa sizes Bokuto up. He seems satisfied with what he finds and relents his attacks. The two rhythmically set the ball back and forth, getting lost in the push and pull of the drill. 

“It wasn’t your fault you know.” Oikawa speaks so softly, Bokuto almost misses the words. He was saved from responding by the camp coordinator’s whistle.

“Conditioning time! Everyone has three laps through the wood trails.”

The auditorium releases a collective groan.

The coordinator smiles behind her whistle. “Make it four laps then. We have more teams joining us, and we need to clear the gym from foottraffic.”

More complaints bubble forth.

She quirks up an unamused brow. “You wanna make it five laps then?”

That shut everybody up. The teams reluctantly trudge out to the woods, but Bokuto couldn’t seem to leave the gym fast enough. He sprints ahead of the pack ignoring Akaashi’s concerned glances and Oikawa’s inquisitive ones. 

It isn’t until the sun began to dip behind the tree line that he realized he was lost. It doesn’t help that he had done six laps instead of the required four. He backtracks his steps, lumbering through a labyrinth of foliage in search for the trail markers. What he finds instead is a familiar shock of red hair... scaling up a tree. 

“Hinata!” 

She loses her grip, cycling her arms viciously as she fights to maintain balance. The phrase _pulling a Bokuto_ aggressively echoes in his mind only rivaled by the equally loud mantra of _oh shit oh shit oh shit_. But the universe spares Bokuto’s already depleting morale as she fastens her hold on the tree, descending down safely.

“Oh hi Bokuto-san!” She walks — no, _limps_ —to him. Something breaks in his chest. “I may have gotten a little lost.”

Her words fall on deaf ears. “You’re ankle!” He gathers her into his arms, charting off before he realizes he has no idea where he’s going. Bokuto decides to shift to the role of mother hen, he can figure out the destination later. “Where does it hurt? How long have you been out here? Why didn’t you tell us sooner!”

She remains uncharacteristically quiet.

He sets her down on a sturdy log and thinks about what Akaashi would say. 

“You have to let us know when you’re hurting, how else can we know to help you— _oh_. Hey hey hey, please don’t cry.” Bokuto’s concern evolves into full blown panic; normally he’s the one getting consoled, not the one doing the consoling. 

Hinata wipes at her eyes, sniffling. “S’ no big deal. It doesn’t even hurt that bad. M’ fine Bokuto-san.”

“Hinata,” he says knowingly, “the best way to get you back on the court is to let yourself heal. I know you can wipe the floor with all of our asses and so does everyone back at the camp.” He stands now, offering her his hand. “So you have nothing to prove, ‘kay?”

Hinata’s eyes shine and Bokuto’s heart sinks. Great, he made her cry again.

“GAH!” She shouts and Bokuto braces himself, “that was so cool Bokuto-san!” She praises and clasps his hand to stand, balancing on the one leg.

He perks up. She thinks he’s cool.

“Not as cool as you climbing that tree!” He adds and ruffles her hair. “You were almost all the way to the top too!”

Her smile is sunshine itself. 

Hinata eventually caves and allows Bokuto to give her a piggyback ride. She makes an offhand remark about not needing to push through the pain; Bokuto’s heart soars with pride. That’s his pupil alright.

They make it back to the camp as night crawls into the sky above them. However, Igu High was its own light house, a beacon among the shadows.

“It’s them!!” A voice cries out. Bokuto is blinded by the flare of lights which single out the two like a helicopter spotlight.

“Hinata what happened to your ankle?!”

“It’s fine Suga-san, I promise.”

“Someone call the nurse!”

“She’s not available till tomorrow morning,” Kenma says gravely.

“Chibi-chan! Let me carry you.” Oikawa’s comment unleashes a swarm of offers to hold Hinata. Even Oikawa seemed to regret the proposal, sending them a half-hearted shrug as if to say ‘ _oopsie_ ’. Oopsie indeed. Seijoh’s setter throws them a small peace sign before melting into the crowd.

Bokuto always loved physical touch, it _was_ his main love language; however, the sea of hands that clamor to help Hinata make him feel claustrophobic. Anxiety thunders in his chest, Hinata needs to get her ankle checked out, not to be smothered.

He’s about to voice this thought, but someone beats him to the punch.

“She needs medical attention; move.” 

The crowd disperses as Aone calmly strides forward. The white-haired knight doesn’t ask to hold Hinata; instead he crouches low, still coming to Bokuto’s chest. Then he takes one of the biggest hands Bokuto has ever seen to gently lift and inspect the injured ankle.

“My brother’s a nurse,” Aone supplies. He stills when Hinata flinches as he tests her foot mobility.

“I called Igu High’s nurse.” Suga says over the noise, phone pressed firmly against his ear. “She’ll be here in thirty minutes.”

Bokuto gently adjusts his hold on Hinata, trying not to jostle her bad foot. He looks to Aone. “I’m gonna take her to the medical bay,” his eyes slide to the growing crowd. “Care to be a bodyguard?”

Aone stands straighter, and Bokuto almost felt intimidated. Although he doesn’t talk much, Bokuto appreciated the steady presence as they made their way across the school. _This kid is a first year?_ He thinks to himself. _What_ _did they feed him, and where can I get it?_ Bokuto scrambles to keep up with Aone’s long strides. Bokuto can see why other competitors shiver in fear at Dateko’s Iron Wall. However, Bokuto doesn’t miss the gentle side glances Aone steals towards Hinata; it looks like every wall has its soft spot. 

Akaashi, Bokuto, and Aone take their shift outside of the nurse’s office. The rest of Karasuno went to regroup and ‘strategize’. Honestly, Bokuto was honored to be on Hinata watching duty, especially after this whole fiasco.

“Looks like I managed to pull another Bokuto,” he says to Akaashi while he rubs the back of his neck. The tile made his butt numb, his legs throb beside him like two ton barbels, but there’s a different heaviness that weighs him down. 

“Pulling a Bokuto?” Hinata enters the room. She hobbles forward on her crutches, her ankle neatly bandaged up. “Does that mean saving the day?” 

A fond smile tugs at Bokuto’s lips. He hates to crush her fantasy, but she’d figure it out eventually.

“Actually—,” he begins only to be cut off by his boyfriend.

“Yes Hinata. Pulling a Bokuto means being there when people need you most.” 

There was a loud inhale and then, “AGASHIII!” 

He gathers the two into his arms trying to convert all of his joy into the embrace. He looks to Aone who watches them from the outskirts of the hallway.

“Come on, big guy.” He extends an arm in an enticing invitation. “My biceps can hold all of you!” 

It’s rare for Bokuto to feel so small and protected, but hugging Dateko’s middle blocker was akin to the universe spooning him. He wish he could say the same about the others.

Akaashi was stepping on his foot, Hinata’s crutches kept stabbing him in the side, and Bokuto was still sticky from his run. He wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. 

Bokuto stills when a fifth party member joins the group hug, their hair tickling the shell of his ear. 

“Don’t you just love happy endings,” Oikawa sighs.

Things only get better from there.

Bokuto and Oikawa decide to unite their forces, seeing as they have a greater common denominator: to keep the Igu and Ubugawa boys away from Hinata. Bokuto even added Seijoh’s setter to the _Secret Mission_ group chat. 

Unsurprisingly, Aone becomes the third member to their alliance. His presence seems to work better than Bokuto and Oikawa’s combined efforts. Unbeknownst to Oikawa, Aone was already apart of the texting strand, but Bokuto would hate to ruin the setter’s brightened mood.

Oikawa happily pulls out his phone with a hum, his fingers dancing across the keyboard.

_ > Oikawa Tooru: Yahoo~ _

_Oikawa Tooru has changed the name to Sunshine Protection Squad._

_ > Iwaizumi Hajime: really shittykawa? _

Oikawa splutters in front of him.

_ > Oikawa Tooru: How come Hajime was added to this group message before me?! ಠoಠ _

_ > Kageyama Tobio: We like him more. _

_ > Oikawa Tooru: Mean Tobio! Very mean!! _

_ > Sugawara Koushi: Where IS Hinata? _

_ > Tsukishima Kei: She wanted to watch some of the other practices and meet the new teams. She called it her “recon mission”. _

_ > Sugawara Koushi: So she’s lost… _

_Aone Takanobu, Kozume Kenma, and thirty others emphasized “So she’s lost…”._

_ > Daichi Sawamura: I’ll start the search. _

_ > Habia Lev: She was with us three hours ago, if that helps. She couldn’t have gotten far in those crutches, just sayin ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ _

_ > Kuroo Tetsurou: Yaku, smack Lev please. _

_ > Yaku Morisuke: With pleasure._

_> Aone Takanobu: She's not with us._

_> Terushima Yuji: Hinata's not with Johzenji... unfortunately. _

_> Iwaizumi Hajime: Have you checked the other gyms at Igu?_

_> Daichi Sawamura: I'll start the search party..._

_ > Ushijima Wakatoshi: We have the child. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXTRA:  
> > Oikawa Tooru: *offended noises*
> 
> A THOUSAND THANK YOU'S FOR YOUR KIND WORDS! If you drop a comment I WILL get back to you. It can literally be about whatever: Haikyuu, good fanfic reads, or just life in general.
> 
> You guys honestly make my heart so happy. Thanks for reading loves <3


	6. Chapter 6

Tendou is tragically bored. 

As any good friend would, he makes sure his teammates are aware of his plight.

“I’m bored~,” he drags out the ‘o’ sound for an uncomfortable stretch of time. When he gets no response, he heaves another full body sigh leaning onto Semi’s slender shoulder. Still no reaction. So he sighs again. And again. And again.

“If you keep breathing like that you’re going to hyperventilate.” Semi doesn’t even  _ try _ to sound concerned.

“Why’d we have to choose this high school again?” Tendou whines and drapes himself over Semi like a cat, curling his long limbs over the shorter boy’s shoulders.

“Our original training camp and school gym got flooded, and Coach Washijou wants us to practice somewhere while he finds us a new place to practice.” Reon pipes in from Tendou’s right as he stretches along the wall. “This is just temporary.”

Tendou uses Semi’s shoulder as a chin holder, pouting at the ceiling. “And what do you think about this Ushijima?” 

Although their captain remains beside them, he’s slightly further away than the rest of the team as he diligently lengthens his hamstrings. For a second Tendou thinks Ushijima didn’t hear his question, but he should know better, Ushijima is always listening.

“It is enough.” Even the act of getting off the floor becomes a regal when Ushijima is involved, like a king dismounting from his throne. “I’m going to practice.” 

The unspoken command has the rest of the team pushing off the wall, ready to show Igu High the irresistible force of Shiratorizawa.

Tendou knows the instant they’re being watched. 

To be fair, he’s used to having others stare at him, so he’s had years of practice.  _ Eye catching _ is what his mother called it when people would blatantly eye him at grocery stores;  _ freak _ is the name spat out by his classmates during recess. He agreed with both. 

But this was not the gaze of the average onlooker; the prickle along his neck was born from more than idle curiosity. This was an intentional dissection of every micro-movement he makes. The stare of an opponent. He was being measured.

  
  


He inspects the volleyball in his hands before tossing it to the rhythm of his favorite pop song. Its steady weight became a familiar anchor, a key that always fits seamlessly into his slender fingers.

“Wakatoshi I think we’re being watched.”

Tendou isn’t expecting a reaction, but he can’t stop the sliver of disappointment at the indifferent huff Ushijima let’s out.

“Wait, we’re being _ watched _ ?!” Goshiki inspects the ball in his hands as though someone planted a hidden camera in the seams.

Tendou gives a sage nod. “Seems like it. Wanna investigate during the next water break?”

“Don’t do it Goshiki.” Reon, ever the voice of reason, warns. He speaks as though he were an oracle forewarning a hero of a particularly perilous quest. “Tendou’s plans never work out well.”

Beside the wing spiker, Semi materializes, arms crossed. “Last time I followed Tendou’s idea, I nearly got suspended,  _ and _ I ruined my favorite pair of pants.”

“Objection!” Tendou declares. “Those pants were hideous in the first place. I was doing you a favor.” He guides Goshiki away from the pair. “Don’t listen to those two party poopers, I say we figure out who’s spying on us.” He swings an easy arm over the first year’s shoulders and gestures to the empty rafters as though he were showing Goshiki the eighth wonder of the world. “Think of it as team bonding.”

As he predicts, Goshiki’s eyes sparkle at the notion of bonding with his upperclassmen.  _ Oh to be a young and an impressionable first year, _ Tendou thinks to himself.

During their next water break, Tendou and Goshiki melt into the shadows. Reon and Semi give a resigned shake of their heads saying something that suspiciously sounds like  _ there goes another one _ .

Finding their onlooker is despairingly anticlimactic. If Tendou didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s dealing with an amateur spy. They made little to no effort hiding themselves behind the clunky bleachers, seated in a low crouch. Oh well, something is better than nothing.

Tendou jabs a finger at the shadow. “Goshiki, use quick attack!”

The first year charges, his battlecry sounding more like a terrified kitten than the roaring lion Tendou envisioned. The clatter of limbs smacking the floor lets him know the scene is safe to approach.

He desperately wishes he brought his camera.

His poor kitten roaring Goshiki sprawls out on the floor like the saddest starfish Tendou ever laid his eyes on. Above him, one petite foot plants itself firmly on Goshiki's lower back, coupled by a single crutch, skewering him like a shishkabob.

“We will never mention this to Ushijima.” Goshiki says, his face mushed against the tile floor.

The shadow, Tendou realizes, is a girl. She sticks her hand out. “My name is Hinata Shouyou from Karasuno High.” The school name sounds vaguely familiar.

“Tendou Satori, and my colleague that you’re currently standing on is Goshiki Tsutomu.”

“Hi.” Goshiki gives a small wave from the floor. “Can you please get off me now?”

“Oh!” She unskewers him.“Hi!”

Tendou learns three things about Hinata Shouyou as they talk. 

One: She uses her whole body when she speaks, her limbs putting the waving inflatable tube men to shame. It's eerily similar to Goshiki after he gets his bags trimmed.

Two: She plays for Karasuno, securing a starting place as a middle blocker of all positions. He decides not to mention her height (or lack of it), blame it on all the manga and comics he reads, but he’s always been a sucker for underdogs. And Hinata Shouyou has the making of one unforgettable heroine.

Three: Hinata truly believes she can beat Ushijima Wakatoshi. Goshiki almost faints at the bold opposition to his beloved captain, no doubt seeing this as a crime of treason to the highest degree. Meanwhile, Tendou thinks they would become fast friends. And as a friend, it’s his job to protect her— especially if it’s from herself.

He’s about to tell her just how crazy her dream is— as much as he admires her determination, beating Ushijima is like telling gravity to fall upward —but a voice strong and sturdy as a thousand year old oak rumbles through the cramped space.

“Tendou. Goshiki,” Ushijima looks more imposing in the shadowed alcove. His form eclipsing the gymnasium lights in a scene straight out of those horror movies Tendou adores. “Practice is about to start.”

Goshiki jumps off the floor like it burned him and glues himself to Ushijima’s side.

“We’re coming, we’re coming.” Tendou peels off the wall. “I was just meeting you newest fan Wakatoshi.” Goshiki sputters, visibly affronted. Tendou continues. “Have you met Hinata Shouyou?”

Tendou has only watched one American Western film in his life. The most memorable scene was when the two opponents squared off face to face in the middle of town for the climactic shootoff; the barren scenery cackling with the promise of an ensuing battle. Ushijima plants himself on one end, defending his vestiges of honor and tradition that roots deeper than any flora found under the scorching sun. Hinata positions herself opposite to him, the challenger thirsty for victory. Tendou wouldn’t be surprised if a lone tumbleweed skates across the gym floor.

The elastic band of tension unravels as Ushijima calmly pulls out his phone, typing out a message in assured and calculated strikes on the keyboard. Tendou can’t remember the last time Goshiki breathed.

“We have met before.” Ushijima says more than a few seconds later, and Tendou barely restrains the  _ no duh _ that threatens to escape. In the pique example of societal decorum, Ushijima turns and exits to Shiratorizawa’s court, vanishing like the morning mist during sunrise. Goshiki is hot on his tail. 

“Psh. We’ve met before my butt.” Hinata says to herself. She picks up her crutches, muttering something about concrete.

Tendou feels like he’s onto something important, something big. It’s the same instinct he gets when he blocks. The pull in his gut which navigates him to the exact spot his opponent would strike. Right now his internal compass points firmly at the girl who fumbles with her crutches, her fiery gaze sliding to the back of his departing captain. 

Tendou looks at Hinata with the reverence of a miner who struck his way to a deposit of gold. “Please come back to our court for the afternoon session.”

“Hm. Okay!” She agrees easily then looks down at her phone, lips pursing. “Looks like my Vice Captain is coming to get me soon. It sounds urgent.” 

He spares one last glance at the girl, really looking at her. The roll of her shoulders as she seems to fill any space she enters, the strong stride to her step even as she hobbles away in her crutches, the faith in herself as she declared she was going to take Ushijima Wakatoshi down. 

The afternoon session couldn’t come soon enough.

“Gentleman,” Tendou starts, and already all of his teammates are looking at him with expressions ranging from curious (Goshiki) to suspicious (Semi and Reon) to tempered indifference (Ushijima), Tendou is undeterred. “Meet our newest addition, standing at 154 cm—”

“164 cm!” Hinata interjects.

“—155 cm and a first year from Karasuno High, Hinata Shouyou~.” He finishes like a wrestling commentator.

His team is absolutely delighted.

“I need some tea.” Oohira mutters, rubbing his temples as he walks away.

“Tendou” Semi starts slowly, “you kidnapped her.” 

“Blink if you need help kid,” Shirabu whispers from behind Semi.

“Tendou-san she’s the  _ enemy _ ,” Goshiki says the last word as with a hiss, eyeing Hinata like she’d steal his soul the moment he let his guard down.

She beams as though he gave her a compliment. 

“Oh come on Goshiki-kun, don't you think she’s pretty?”

The first year sputters, his face becoming an unflattering shade of red. Tendou leans down in a show of exaggerated secrecy. “That means yes~”

He soaks in every fervent denial that escapes the first year, it was as though he accused Goshiki of having cooties.

Ushijima rises like a tree taking root, halting Goshiki’s impression of a squeaky wheel. 

“We don’t take walk ons.” Tendou thinks that’s the first time Ushijima has used a contraction, ever. 

“I’m not here to join your team,” Hinata clarifies. “I’m here to watch you guys, so Karasuno can beat you and go to nationals.”

Goshiki chokes on air. Shirabu gives him a hard slap on the back and looks at Yamagata. He looks at Semi who tries, and fails, at hiding his undignified snort. Semi manages to subdue himself and looks at Kawashini. Kawashina gives a one shoulder shrug, chewing on his protein bar and looks at Tendou. And Tendou hasn’t taken his eyes off of Ushijima for over ten seconds, yes, he counted.

Their captain doesn’t change, but at the same time he does. Tendou mentally compares his mental images of Ushijima, much like the  _ spot the difference _ game he played as a child. Ushijima’s mouth is still pressed in a harsh line, royal features set in stone, but there’s a new  _ something.  _ The brightness is Ushijima’s eyes, a cluster of little suns which burn against his stoic countenance. 

“If you stay, you work.” 

Hinata nods once.

“I don’t like this.” Goshiki announces. His face went from fire hydrant red to Shiratorizawa-jersey pink. “Hey Intruder! Where do you think you’re going?”

“Goshiki don’t be rude,” Reon appears and takes a sip from the steaming teacup that looked too small nestled in his hands. He surveys their frozen forms, sighing into the dainty cup. “What’d I miss?”

“I couldn’t tell ya,” Semi says with a thousand yard stare, “and I was here the whole time.”

“I’m gonna be the first on the court!” Hinata yells over her shoulder as she does a hop skip maneuver to the net.

A blur of bangs flies past Tendou with an undignified screech of  _ “No you’re not!!” _ . In an ingenious pole vault maneuver with her crutches, Hinata ascends her way to victory— well it’s more of a belly flop, but it’s all the same to Goshiki who mopes along the end line.

“Psh. You won one race, big deal.” His expression communicates that it was, in fact, a big deal.

“Since I won you have to let me toss for you!” 

Goshiki pretends to consider the offer but ends up looking like a puppy who was told they were going on a walk. “I suppose that’s reasonable.” In one swift motion, the two sprint off to raid the nearest ball cart. 

A crisp ping has Tendou peering at a phone— it’s not his, but to be fair, he  _ thought it was, _ for a solid two seconds, so truly he’s not at fault for snooping. However, the plant image that greets him was a far departure from his manga lock screen. He quickly unlocks Ushijima’s device and reads the message.

_ > Sugawara Koushi: We sent Hinata your way. Let us know if we need to come and get her. _

He surveys the auditorium. Goshiki and Hinata are in their own world. Reon is still finishing his tea. And the rest of the team surrounds Yamagata as he attempts to break his personal record of how many protein bars he can stuff in his mouth. He is currently at four. 

Tendou types out his reply. 

_ > Ushijima Wakatoshi: That will not be necessary. She has correctly decided to continue her studies at Shiratorizawa. _

_ > Sugawara Koushi: Very funny Tendou-san. _

Tendou pouts.

_ > Ushijima Wakatoshi: how’d you know it was me?! _

_ > Sugawara Koushi: Look to your right. _

The smile Karsuno’s setter sends him is far too innocent for Tendou’s liking.

Tendou’s actual phone pings with a notification.

“An invite to join,” his brows furrow as he reads the message, “the  _ Sunshine Protection Squad _ ? That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard of.” 

He accepts the request immediately.

“Tendou!” Semi shouts; behind him Yamagata is on his knees as Reon pats his back consolingly. Looks like the record was not beat. “Get your lanky ass over here! We’re about to start a practice match!”

“That language is not necessary,” Ushijima corrects. Semi looks properly chastised much to Tendou’s delight.

“Sorry captain.”

Hinata is stationed at the scorekeeping table, ready to tally points as if it were her life’s calling. His team warms up to her left, Olympains ready to defend their mountain. The other team strides onto the court in the same manner storm clouds roll over the countryside on a clear day. His hands itch to block something. An innate forewarning stirs at the edges of Tendou’s consciousness; it carries the weight of the few heartbeats before the first shot is fired in a warzone. 

The starting whistle pierces through the air. Tendou wonders if that counts as the first blow.

Looks like his week got a lot more interesting.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never realized how much I loved my Shiratorizawa boys until I started writing this, so there will be a part 2 for this interaction (aka I'm adding another chapter aka this fic keeps getting longer and longer XD).
> 
> Thanks again for reading loves!! If you drop a comment to say hi or just talk about life, I WILL get back to you :)


	7. Chapter 7

It all starts with Hinata’s scorekeeping. 

Or rather, it starts with her lack of scorekeeping. Her attention span rivals Goshiki whenever the first year enters the volleyball section of a sports equipment store; needless to say, it’s nonexistent. But what she lacks in her referee skills she makes up tenfold with her enourgament. Compliments spill out of her as freely as water gushes from a fresh mountain spring.

“Nice block Tendou-san!”

“Flattery will get you everywhere with me.” He winks. “Now, keep the score.”

“Nice kill Reon-san!!”

“Thank you Hinata, but—“

“ _AH_! I’ll flip the score.”

“ _UWAH_! Good serve Goshiki-san! You’re so cool!”

“No you’re so cool!” He preens, throwing his hands in Hinata’s general direction. 

After a pointed throat clearing from Shirabu, Hinata belatedly allots Shiratorizawa another point, placing them at 17-11. 

The practice match proceeds with the same pace of a new driver getting behind the wheel, constantly stopping and starting. Tendou almost feels bad for the other team. It’s not that Hinata favors Shiratorizawa unfairly; she spares the opposing team excited _good receive_ and _nice kill_ ’s as well, but in comparison to their powerhouse school, Shiratorizawa doesn’t give their opponent much chance to show off. It was a prolonged execution in their opponents eyes. Tendou almost felt bad. Almost.

“Hey scorekeeper that was our point,” the opposing team’s libero argues. He’s around Hinata’s height. Small but lean in build with cropped brown hair and an upturned nose that reminds Tendou of his aunt’s dog that always barked at him as a child. Tendou immediately dislikes him.

Hinata looks to the score and then back to the accuser. “But it’s not. Look.” She shows him the neat tick marks decorating a second sheet of paper.

He’s not convinced. “That last ball didn’t hit our side of the court.” He leans over the table, palms flat against its surface. “It was a mistake.” 

Goshiki spurs to action but Reon catches him by the back of his shirt scruffing him like a momma cat would to her kitten. It’s Semi that speaks.

“Hey asshole.” To Tendou’s amusement, the libero looks up at this. “Leave her alone.” 

Tendou forgets sometimes. He knows Semi likes to separate his laundry by colors, feeds all the stray cats on his way back home, and religiously licks the bowl of ice cream clean, always getting a dollop of chocolate on his nose. This is the Semi Tendou sees on a daily basis, so he forgets how their other middle blocker looks to the outside world: a six foot, broad shouldered athlete sewn together with a silver tongue and a snark attitude to match.

“We’ll give you that point,” Semi grunts, smile sharpening into something predatory, “but only so I can drag your ass in the ground again.” Satisified at the libero’s reaction, Semi huffs and treads back to the rest of the team, who tries not to look too proud. They fail.

“Sorry captain.” Semi whispers before Ushijima can open his mouth, he braces himself for the impending _that language is not necessary_. It never comes.

Five minutes pass and Shiratorizawa firmly secures the first set with a final kill from Semi who shoots it just out of the libero’s range with a wicked flick of his wrist. The other team retreats to their court, head hanging low and tail tucked between their legs.

“We agreed that you would keep the score,” Ushijima tells Hinata after everyone is packing up. She’s half out of her chair, but plants herself into a steady arms crossed position as soon as he nears her table. A crow ready to defend her turf. 

“We did,” she agrees. “And I kept the score.” She shows him the scorekeeping stand and her match notes.

“We agreed that you would keep the score.” Ushijima repeats. Hinata smirks. “But not for you to comment for the playing teams.” The smug grin falls faster than the anvil off of those old American cartoons. “The match would have finished much quicker had you been more attentive to the game. Let me know if these tasks are not viable for you.”

Tendou’s eyebrows climb to his hairline, he barely restrains the _‘oooh’_ that threatens to escape his lips. If he were on one of those reality TV shows, this would be the moment where he looks to the camera. 

Hinata strides forward. Her nose came to Ushijima’s sternum, but as far as Tendou can tell, they stood eye to eye. “Keep them coming.” 

And Ushijima does. From sweeping the floors, twice, to cleaning and refilling water bottles. He assigns every tedious, uninteresting, and dissatisfying task to the poor Karasuno transfer. Normally, this is a form of punishment that Washijou-sensei reserves for when Tendou gets too sassy or Semi can’t control his tongue. He feels a sense of sympathy for Hinata as she totes their old laundry, he can practically see the stench lines radiating off of Goshiki’s jersey. Tendou’s own nose hairs have yet to recover from his laundry duty. 

The rest of practice goes over quietly. Too quietly. The doors and world clicks back into place as she leaves.

“Wakatoshi don’t you think you were a little harsh on her?” Tendou finally asks, plopping on the ground.

“Yeah,” Semi agrees, “Kid was just trying to help out. So what if she got a little excited.” He tucks his clothes into his bag, each color jersey specifically sectioned off in the backpack. “Weren’t you like that at your dad’s volleyball games?”

“No.”

“What Semi is _trying_ to say is that Hinata isn’t intentionally trying to get side tracked,” Reon translates, handing out water bottles to the team. He gives the last one to Ushijima. “Maybe instead of asking her to adjust to us, we can adjust to her?” He suggests.

Reon always had a way with words, and it shows in the way Ushijima drinks his water. It’s methodical, as though the water was Reon’s advice entering his system.

“I see.” Ushijima says after a moment. “I will take that into consideration if she decides to practice with us again.” He places the water bottle in its holder. “That is highly unlikely.”

Hinata is nowhere to be seen during their next practice session. Goshiki deflates like a torn balloon, Semi tries to stall practice as much as possible claiming he needs to stretch out his hamstrings more (Semi hates stretching), even Ushijima’s eyes slide to the gym’s entrance.

Ushijima rises like a tree taking root. “I am warming up.” Any hope of her coming back evaporates like mist during the morning sunrise. 

“Aww shit I really wanted her to come,” Semi grumbles.

“That language is not necessary,” Ushijima corrects from the court.

_“How can he always hear me_.” Semi sighs and trudges beside Tendou. “She said I had good blocks.” He talks about her as though she were a lost loved one.

“ _I_ tell you your blocks are good.” 

“It’s not the same.” Semi goes to the ball cart, and Tendou can’t help but agree. It isn’t the same without over exaggerated compliments sandwiched by a _UWAH_ , _GAH_ , or _HEY_. Tendou feels her absence like a lost tooth.

“ _GAH_ sorry I’m late!”

Seven pairs of eyes whip to the door. Hinata bows once, deep and quick. Tendou swears he got whiplash just from watching her. 

“I couldn’t find my crutches, but that won’t happen again.” She may be speaking to everyone, but her eyes never leave Ushijima. The room takes in a collective inhale, waiting. Hinata doesn’t give them a chance.

“Well, let’s get going!” She takes off, and that’s when Tendou realizes she’s missing one sock, her jersey is several sizes too large, and her shoes are caked in mud. When he asks her about this, Hinata admits that she misplaced some of her items and needed to borrow a jersey from her teammates. She then Sthen proceeds to lead them into their next drill, eerily reminding Tendou of Washijou when she places her hands on her hips, clipboard wielded to her side in the same manner a knight carries their sword.

Tendou’s not the only one watching her. Ushijima regards her with the same tilt of his head that Washijou does when Goshiki sprints his final punishment lap at full tilt even though the first year clearly can’t feel his legs. Or when Reon sends the ball careening into the rafters, ripping another point from the opponent and leading them one step closer to victory. Or when Tendou did one hundred and one serves instead of the required one hundred. 

Ushijima is proud.

The afternoon session bleeds into the late evening, and soon Reon is directing them to eat dinner.

“Yes mother,” Semi teases. Shirabu fist bumps him, and the two sprint out of the gym before they can face the full wrath of Reon. As kind as the wing spiker can be, demons run when a good man goes to war.

“I don’t know why they ran,” Reon muses while he packs up his gear, the picture of innocence. “We all sleep in the same room, so I’ll get them one way or another.” He says matter of factly and zips up his bag with a sharp flick of his wrist. “It’s not a matter or if, but when.”

Reon smiles brightly. “I’ll see you guys at dinner. And Goshiki, Hinata!” The two pause their hitting drill. “Stop practicing after two more line shots. You need to eat dinner, and you don’t want to get caught out in the rain.” Reon left no room for argument.

They stop at two line shots. Hinata was tempted to do a third, but Goshiki knew better. Reon always knows. Always. Tendou thinks he should start giving Goshiki more credit, but then the first year gets stuck in his practice jersey, the sheer fabric snagging his elbows within its octopus-like grip. Tendou decides he gives Goshiki just enough credit as is.

Ushijima watches from afar, stretching his arms against the wall. Tendou can’t tell if he looks more like an eagle watching over its terrain or a vulture looking for its next meal.

“Oh to be young and in love,” Tendou croons, perching his chin on Ushijima’s shoulder. The two first years who chatter about the best way to sneak more practice sessions in as though they were planning to escape from Alcatraz. 

“Goshiki.” Ushijima’s voice rumbles like thunder much like the storm which brews outside Igu High.

The first year sprints over to the pair, but then screeches to a halt, almost face planting on the ground.

“I forgot my warm up jacket.” 

Their dorms were on the opposite side of campus. The furthest point from the cafeteria. Goshiki wouldn’t make it in time for lunch. He seems to come to this conclusion at the same time as the rest of them do. 

He wilts like a flower who got too much sun, or like a volleyball player that just discovered they would miss out on boiled flounder. His favorite meal. “I'll go get it now.” 

“I can get it for you!” Hinata cuts in, putting the final balls away into the cart. “Karasuno already had their dinner slot, and your dorms are on the way to my court.” Goshiki looks at her with the reverence of a guardian angel. Shiratorizawa’s first year can only manage a nod, but she’s already vaulting out the door, the click of her crutches sounding like the world’s scariest (and smallest) freight train.

A moment passes. “Goshiki,” Tendou starts slowly. “Did you give Hinata the key to our dorm?” It’s not really a question. Outside, the wind picks up, dark clouds roll in, shadowing Goshiki’s face. He can’t tell if the high pitched trill that follows is from the storm or Goshiki.

“HINATA WAIT!”

Tendou unwinds himself from Ushijima’s shoulders, a fond smile curling at his lips as shrill screeching sounds fill the halls. “Let’s go get some dinner.”

They ate as the sky opened up above them, sheets of rain drumming against the roof and extending their dinner period. 

Reon explains the newest novel he’s reading. Shirabu pretends to listen. Yamagata tries to steal some of Goshiki’s food. And Goshiki hangs onto every word Reon says. The storm peters off, and soon they’re released to their rooms.

They arrive at a crime scene. 

Tendou’s manga books are strewn on each of his teammates' beds, their contents open and some pages tucking themselves under the strewn and water logged sheets. Semi mourns the loss of his childhood blanket which is soaked in Reon’s tea.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill whoever did this,” he promises, wringing out the small fabric. Reon sets a steady hand on his shoulder. 

“That language is not… necessary.” The last word barely makes it past Ushijima’s lips, and Tendou can’t blame him. Near the center of the aftermath lies what once was a small potted succulent. Dirt spattered across the floor in chunky clumps, the budding plant removed from its life source. It looks so small cradled in Ushijima’s palms.

“I will report this to the head coach.” Succulent in hand, Ushijima exits.

The silence that follows weighs heavy on Tendou’s lungs. “Goshiki?”

“I know.” The first year looks to the empty key chain holder latched onto his volleyball bag. The empty space screaming into the knowing quiet; in that small gap between Goshiki’s school ID and home key was the space of their room key. The key that was in the possession of Hinata Shouyou. 

Thirty minutes later, the head coach calls for Hinata’s expulsion from the camp immediately. 

_ > Nishinoya Yuu: THIS IS BULLSHIT _

_ > Tanaka Ryuunosuke: Absolute bullshit!! Hinata didn’t do it! _

_ > Goshiki Tsutomu: we know that! but the head coach needed someone to blame, and Hinata was in our room earlier... _

_ > Tanaka Ryuunosuke: @Goshiki Tsutomu you have three seconds to start running. _

_ > Goshiki Tsutomu: wait!! i’m on your side!! i was just pointing out the fact that Hinata had the keys and was in our room when our stuff got shsahda _

_ > Goshiki Tsutomu: This is Reon. Goshiki has lost his phone privileges. Please forgive him. _

_ > Oikawa Tooru: Finally, a competent person on Shiratorizawa. _

_ > Goshiki Tsutomu: We know Hinata didn’t do it, but we still don’t know who or what did. _

_ > Aone Takanobu: It may have been the storm that passed by. _

_ > Bokuto Koutarou: POLAR BEAR HAS A POINT! JUST SAY IT WAS THE STORM THAT BLEW YOUR WINDOW OPEN AND THEN MY DISCIPLE IS SET FREE _

_ > Bokuto Koutarou: #FREEHINATA2020!! _

_Oikawa Tooru, Kenma Kozume, and thirty two others emphasized #FREEHINATA2020!!_

_ > Sugawara Koushi: It’s not that easy. It doesn’t help that Hinata didn’t come to the head coach’s meeting. It looks suspicious on her part. _

_ > Nishinoya Yuu: SHE’S GOING OUTSIDE THE LAW TO FIND HER OWN VERSION OF JUSTICE _

_ > Tanaka Ryuunosuke: She’s so brave!! _

_ > Tanaka Ryuunosuke: [ _ [ _GIF_ ](https://images.app.goo.gl/fqwsZVUHFozRrJCm6) _]_

_ > Sawamura Daich: Yeah...no, I don’t think that’s the case. _

_ > Tsukishima Kei: You guys give Hinata way too much credit. She’s probably in the bathroom. _

_ > Oikawa Tooru: I was just by the restrooms and didn’t hear any singing ó_ò _

_ > Kenma Kozume: i haven’t seen Shouyou since the afternoon session _

_ > Kageyama Tobio: dammit boke! _

_ > Daichi Sawamura: Not again… _

_ > Bokuto Koutarou: #FINDHINATA2020 _

They don’t find Hinata, but Tendou and Goshiki _do_ stumble across two figures holding an awfully familiar pair of crutches.

Tendou jabs his finger towards the retreating figures. “Goshiki uses quick attack!”

He expects a repeat of Goshiki’s ambush, Tendou’s true intention is to shock the suspects more than anything. So imagine his surprise when Goshiki tackles the two with the power of a star line backer. A pinch of pride flutters in Tendou’s chest, he feels like a momma lion who just watched their cub make their first kill. 

Upon closer inspection, these were the same boys from the team they beat earlier today. 

“Well, well, well.” He drawls in a poor attempt of an American southern accent. “Looks like we got ourselves some thieves.”

Goshiki snatches the crutches away, and Tendou pretends not to see him whack the two with the end of the crutch. “Give us the key.” Goshiki demands.

“We don’t have it,” one of them protests, he has shaggy hair with bangs that always cover his eyes.

Tendou squats to the floor, making sure the boy can see his face. “I won’t repeat my question.” He made sure his stare showcased why Shiratorizawa’s opponents call him the Guess Monster. 

It’s his partner who confesses. 

“It’s with the girl!” Goshiki loosens his hold on the two. “It’s with the girl.”

“And where is she?”

“...in the closet we locked her in.” Their faces whack against the floor with a wet smack.

“What did you do to Hinata?” Goshiki demands, uncharacteristaically serious.

The two spill out their plan as easily as a river flows over rocks. Turns out, Aone was correct, it was the storm that dismantled their room, but it was all at the hands of a team who didn’t know how to take a loss with grace. Their team had continuously been teasing Hinata. Hiding her crutches, misplacing her other items with the crown jewel of framing her for trashing Shiratorizawa’s dorm. 

Tendou informs the group chat of this as Reon and Shirabu usher the two culprits to the head coach. Meanwhile, Tendou and Goshiki fly across Igu High to go to the closet where Hinata was trapped.

They find her, but she’s not alone, nor is she in a closet. Ushijima looks much less intimidating with her perched on his back. Her legs looped through their captain’s arms, small frame latching onto Ushijima as a vine does to a brick wall. 

Tendou plants his hands on his hips, an easy smile splitting his face, “Ushijima,” his voice lilts with fondness, sounding less teasing than what he was going for. “Whatcha got there?”

Ushijima produces a small item. “The keys to our room.”

The rest of Karasuno breaks through, sweeping Hinata away for their own inspection. They are an unstoppable force in their own right. 

“Are you alright?!”

“Did they hurt you?”

“I’m gonna beat their asses!”

Soon enough Fukurodani’s ace and setter join in, but that entrance was less talking and more hugging. That is until their ace hoists Hinatabu the armpits like that one scene from the Lion King.

“Hey hey hey! My displicle is free!”

“I’m free!” Hinata bellows, arms raised in a V shape for victory. Tendou is positive she has no idea what the context is for the _I’m free_ statement, but she goes along with it good naturedly. 

Tendou doesn’t remember when Nekoma appears, but their setter is hovering by Hinata’s side. A calm presence amongst Fukurodani’s energy, but nonetheless, powerful. The fluorescent light made it look like the catch of Kenma’s gaze would electrify anything it touched. Nekoma’s middle blocker, who was as tall as Tendou and had an eternal case of bed head, muses Hinata’s hair to match his own messy locks while Hinata describes how she thought she locked herself in the closet. 

“Hina-chan! Are you okay?!” Oikawa Tooru practically climbs over the crowd. All exaggerated cries of distress and loud coos of comfort, but there was an serious undercurrent to the way he looked over her, not a single detail escapes his intense brown eyes.

Tendou trails over to Ushijima who watches from a distance. 

“How’d you know she didn’t do it?”

“Hinata is an honorable competitor.” They look in time to see Fukurodani’s ace perch Hinata on his shoulders, parading her around Igu’s cafeteria. Ushijima’s eyes warm into an almost smile. “That and their libero confessed to me.” Tendou may have to revisit his stance on his aunt’s dog and the libero’s morality.

Life continues on normally.

Hinata gets cleared from her crutches, and rejoins Karasuno for their training regimen. Shiratorizawa tries not to look too sad about it. She still stops by their practice, telling Goshiki how cool his line shots are or how _KAPOW_ Tendou’s kill blocks look. All is well.

“Whatcha looking at Tendou-san?” Hinata inquires from over his shoulder, a ball tucked into each elbow. Ushjima just issued a rare waterbreak, so of course Tendou was going to capitalize on the moment and look at his phone; the chat had become increasingly more interesting after Hinata’s imprisonment. Right now, Oikawa and Bokuto are hashing out which team gets “the crow” for lunch. 

“Oh, it’s this group chat I’m in.” He trades his phone for the volleyballs. “You can read it if you want it’s pretty funny.” He trots off to deposit the volleyballs in the nearest cart, oblivious to how the smile slides off Hinata’s face as she scans the phone’s contents.

When he returns she’s already gone, his phone neatly placed by his volleyball bag.

**  
  
  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far thank you for reading! And feel free to say hi in the comments :)
> 
> I truly can't believe how we have one more chapter after this! This has felt like such a collaboration of your comments, suggestions, and encouragement. I really could not have done it without you guys. Much love friends <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a drill! The finale is here ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ

Tanaka paces around the small classroom, impatiently worrying a pen between his teeth.

He and Nishinoya are the only ones in the empty room. The uncharacteristic silence between them is heavy with the realization that Hinata is ignoring them.

Her distance is ice cold. An unrelenting blizzard, which is a stark departure from the sunny demeanor he’s used to. Tanaka can’t shake the feeling that he did something wrong. As though he submitted a test without putting his name on it. 

“DAMMIT.” He curses, chucking the unsuspecting pen on the floor and then rakes his hands through his cropped hair. “Everything was fine yesterday. What went wrong?”

Tanaka examines the whiteboard which was crammed with even more stick figures, leads, and ‘potential suspects’ written in a bold red marker. He feels like he’s blundered every part of this plan, like he can’t get a win. It’s a disarming and frustrating sensation, one that spreads throughout his entire mind like a nasty infection. On cue, his phone buzzes. 

_ > Kenma Kozume: i hate this _

_ > Goshiki Tsutomu: me too!!!! _

It looks like her bone-chilling cold shoulder treatment was not reserved solely for Tanaka and Nishinoya. Is it bad that the revelation makes Tanaka feel a little better?

_ > Bokuto Koutarou: WHAT DID WE DO TO DESERVE SUCH A PUNISHMENT? _

_ > Bokuto Koutarou: [ _ [ _GIF_ ](https://images.app.goo.gl/5q8BNLmbqdvv4r3K6) _]_

_ > Daichi Sawamura: Let’s think about this rationally. She seemed fine yesterday, so what changed? _

_ > Oikawa Tooru: I’m not trying to point any fingers but she was with Shiratorizawa most of yesterday… (¬､¬) _

_ > Iwaizumi Hajime: shittykawa you totally just pointed fingers _

_ > Oikawa Tooru: I’m just stating the facts Iwa-chan _

_ > Lev Haiba: I’ve got it! _

_ > Kuroo Tetsurou: Yaku be ready to smack Lev _

_ > Lev Haiba: For real hear me out guys! _

_ > Kenma Kozume: fine _

_ > Lev Haiba: What if- _

_ > Lev Haiba: -she’s on her period. _

_ > Kuroo Tetsorou: … _

_ > Kenma Kozume: … _

_ > Oikawa Tooru: … _

_ > Yaku Morisuke: Smack was delivered _

_ > Yaku Morisuke: Repeatedly _

_ > Daichi Sawamura: How about instead of trying to figure out what we did WRONG, let’s try to lift her spirits. _

_ > Sugawara Koushi: suggestions, go! _

_ > Kageyama Tobio: pork buns! _

_ > Aone Takanobu: Stuffed animals _

_ > Oikawa Tooru: Here’s the plan. I take her on a dateqhfhdf _

_ > Bokuto Koutarou: WOW IWAIZUMI, EVEN I HEARD THAT SMACK FROM OVER HERE _

_ > Asahi Azumane: A handwritten letter? _

_ > Tendou Satori: repenting for our past sins _

_ > Nishinoya Yuu: BEACH VOLLEYBALL!!!!! _

_Tsukishima Kei, Kuroo Tetsorou, and forty others loved “BEACH VOLLEYBALL!!!!!”_

Tanaka writes “Beach volleyball” in big bold letters; the vibrant red color standing out among the thousands of other scribbles and leads which range from _not enough sleep_ to _we royally fucked “something” up_. 

Tanaka scratches his chin, deep in thought. “This could work.” 

“Yes.” Nishinoya takes a step back. He looks at the board with the same reverence of a math professor who solved the answer to a particularly grueling problem. “Yes, this is it.” 

He then falls into a concerning silence. 

“Noya, you good?”

“What kind of marker did you use for the dry erase board?” He asks hesitantly.

Tanaka looks down at the marker in his hand— the _red sharpie_ in his hand. 

“...Shit.”

-

Tanaka is hot, sticky, and covered in sand.

In addition to the impending sunburn that pulses under his scalp ( he’s ignoring the knowing looks Sugawara sends him after he warned Tanaka of this very outcome), Tanaka’s biggest concern is that the plan is not working. 

Any inkling of hope that Tanaka misread the ignoring situation was obliterated under the scorching sun. 

Hinata’s team consists of a rag tag team of Igu High boys, who take to her sunny demeanor as easily as water flows down a mountainside. To the outsider, this grouping meant nothing, but to Tanaka, this was a deliberate act of emancipation.

He’s not alone in this sentiment. Kageyama tries to hide his kicked puppy expression, Kenma takes in the act with long blinks and a void-like silence, meanwhile Bokuto resorts to groveling at her feet. Akaashi eventually comes in and drags him away.

The matches go by in a blur. 

Tanaka is struck by the fact that Hinata doesn’t trash talk.

He could deal with loud bouts of rage and cuss words. Afterall, that’s how he and Saeko operated, on a mutual understanding of getting a couple of choice words out of their systems and then making up as though the incident never occurred. 

But Hinata’s anger is silent, and her actions scream into the void she leaves. The heaving breaths and prolonged stares communicating something important but undecipherable in Tanaka’s eyes. The revelation guts him.

Somewhere amidst the dragging day and onslaught of coded looks, Miyuki and Sakai appear. They hover over Hinata’s court like vengeful spirits, sending icy glares of their own that will haunt Tanaka’s nightmares tonight, only to melt into warm and encouraging grins whenever Hinata needs a water or pep talk.

He eyes the dangerous duo, turning over different outcomes in his mind. Tanaka didn’t want to resort to this, but it looks like he has no choice. He and Nishinoya share a look. A moment of understanding passes between the two second years as they make their way to their potential saviors or executioners. His money is on the latter. 

Miyuki still regards him and Nishinoya disdainfully behind her wide rimmed glasses, probably calling them ten types of idiot as he tells her their conundrum.

“You’re an idiot.” Or she tells them so in person.

“Please help us Miyuki-san, we don’t know what we did,” he pleads. Tanaka considers clasping her hand in desperation, but he also likes having ten functioning, unbroken fingers. 

Sakai materializes by her side “Stupid. You guys are innately stupid.” She says the verdict solemnly. Tanaka begins to feel distinctly double teamed. 

Nishinoya tips his head to the side. “Eh?”

“You’re too overprotective.” Miyuki punctuates her statement with a firm flick to their foreheads. “You two buffoons got so caught up in protecting her, you invalidated her personhood.”

“She isn’t a damsel in distress.” Sakai points out.

“How do we fix it?” Oikawa asks from behind them. Beside him, Kenma, Aone, and Ushijima stood stone faced, but there was a keen awareness in their eyes, hinging on Miyuki’s word. 

She taps her chin. “An honest approach would work best. Just go to her and say you’re sorry.” 

“And wear a skirt,” Sakai adds. At the confused looks she receives, she elaborates. “To promote solidarity.”

Miyuki rolls her eyes. “You just wanna see them in a skirt,” she accuses.

“I just want to see them in a skirt,” Sakai confirms, not looking at all remorseful.

Asahi steps forward, wringing his hands in anxious circles. “But how can we apologize if she’s actively avoiding us?”

“Kidnapping.” Sakai says immediately.

“No.” Miyuki doesn’t look fazed at her apprentice’s unconventional suggestions. “No kidnapping.” She taps her foot on the ground for a moment. “Let her know you want to apologize first, then let her come to you. Don’t force it.”

-

“You forced it, didn’t you?”

The whole training camp crowds around Miyuki’s motorbike, heads hung low in defeat. “Well,” she unbuckles her helmet and settles into a comfortable position. “What did you do?”

“We did what you said, honest.” Nishinoya supplies. “We went over to her and apologized for being too protective of her.”

“And then we went over each incident where we needed to atone for,” Tanaka adds. “The study room, the threat from Sakai, the ankle twisting.” He lists each incident on every finger.

“And turns out she wasn’t even mad at us for being overprotective.” Oikawa intervenes from the back of the crowd with a disdainful shake of his head. “Chibi-chan simply thought we were leaving her out.”

“And now she has two reasons to incur her anger,” Ushijima concludes with a solemn nod.

Miyuki looks to the sky as though the answers to her life problems were inscribed in the clouds. Apparently, she finds no solution. “They listed every incident— why would they…” She mumbles a couple more phrases to herself and then claps her hands together. “Okay, new plan: you kidnap her.”

At the shouts of protests she backtracks. “Calm down, calm down. Don’t _actually_ kidnap her. Just guide her to a certain area, so you can apologize. Think of it as herding cattle.”

“This is my teammate you’re talking about.” Daichi says wearily.

“This is also the muse of my fan club, your point?”

He sighs, looking years older than his actual age. “Proceed.”

_ > Tanaka Ryuunosuke: OPERATION CAPTURE THE CROW IS A GO!! _

_ > Daichi Sawamura: Herding group are you in position? _

_ > Kuroo Tetsorou: 10-4 Dadchi _

_ > Daichi Sawamura: Set up crew, is the apology room ready? _

Tanaka surveys the classroom, brimming with apology cards, pork buns, and sports drinks. Beside him, Nishinoya is hanging up a banner that reads _sorry for being dumb_ in barely legible letters.

_ > Tanaka Ryuunosuke: ALL GOOD HERE CAP!! _

_ > Daichi Sawamura: Apology team, what’s the status on you? _

_ > Daichi Sawamura: ?? _

A minute passes by. 

_ > Daichi Sawamura: Bokuto are you there? _

_ > Aone Takanobu: I believe he is getting ready. _

_ > Lev Haiba: target is spotted!!! _

Tanaka pockets his phone and then positions himself by the door, ear pressed firmly against the wood to hear any signs of life. The undeniable sound of sneakers squeaking across the tile has Nishinoya crowding around the entrance. Shouts and whoops ring through the halls.

“Uhh Tanaka, how did they get Hinata to run?”

Tanaka feels like he should be concerned. 

“DAMMIT BOKE THAT’S THE WRONG WAY!” Kageyama’s voice cuts in. “YOU’RE CHEATING!”

_Ahh a race against Kageyama_ , Tanaka thinks to himself. _She would never turn that down._

Even her sing-song voice sounds off as it carries through the hallway. “You’re just mad because I thought of it first!”

Tanaka and Nishinoya step away from the entrance, opening the door to make it seem as an enticing finish line. And now they wait. And wait. And they wait some more. Tanaka’s phone breaks the silence.

_ > Kuroo Tetsurou: So I have good news and bad news… _

_ > Daichi Sawamura: Oh dear. _

_ > Kuroo Tetsurou: The good news is that Kageyama was able to race her to the correct wing of Igu High. _

_ > Kuroo Tetsurou: The bad news is that she hid herself in the wrong room… _

_ > Kuroo Tetsurou: … a room we are currently trying to identify. _

Flashes of a room decorated in red sharpie among other condemning plans and strategies strike through Tanaka’s mind. 

_There’s no way_ , he tries to rationalize as he sprints through the halls at full tilt only to skid to an aggressive halt in front of the room he and Nishinoya detailed every. Single. Part. Of their plan. 

The libero crashes into his back and then promptly freezes like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. Hinata’s back is to them, but the front of her faces that damning whiteboard.

“Hinata,” Nishinoya starts softly, as though he were talking to a scared animal. “We can explain—”.

“Why’d you guys do it?” Tanaka barely hears the question pass her lips. She has yet to look at them.

“We were just,” he takes a nervous hand through his cropped hair. “We were just trying to help, but we totally messed up.” 

“We’re so sorry for being dumb boys,” Nishinoya says.

"So you didn't want to leave me out?"

"Never." Tanaka's words are as honest as a strike of lightning.

"And you think I can handle myself?"

"Hinata, let's be real, I can't even handle myself, and you're just as crazy as me." Nishinoya admits. "But we're not supposed to ‘handle ourselves’ by ourselves, that's why we have a team."

He sends her a wicked smile, eyes flashing. “But to answer a different question: we know you can kick some serious ass."

When she finally faces them it's as though the sun parted from behind from behind an eternal cloudy day. 

“I guess we all can be stupid sometimes.” She says with a fond shake of her head. “But your heart was in the right place.”

Tanaka feels like he can finally breathe. He affectionately tousles her hair much like Saeko did to him when he was younger. Nishinoya drapes an arm around her shoulder and leads her to the proper classroom. The three chatter along like life long friends, a peaceful energy settles around them like the mist after a heavy rain.

Nishinoya must have texted the group about Hinata’s status because a cacophony of mistimed “We’re sorry’s” greets them as soon as they cross the threshold. 

Not a single head rises from its bowed position as every Tokyo high school volleyball team waits on baited breath for Hinata’s judgement. 

"Don't look down,” Hinata chides gently. “Volleyball is a sport where you're always looking up.” She cracks a smile. ”I accept your apology.” And just like that, all was right with the world. 

Gifts flood to Hinata in steady streams. 

Aone presents Hinata with the biggest polar bear plushie Tanaka has ever seen. Compared to Dateko’s middle blocker, the stuffed animal looked normally proportioned. Tanaka should have known better. The polar bear towers over Tanaka and could function as a bed for Hinata who clings onto Aone with gratitude. 

Ushijima has a noise maker in his mouth, the celebratory device is at odds with his stony face while he holds up a whiteboard that coaches use to explain plays. All volleyball strategies have been wiped off, replaced with the heartfelt message of: _I apologize_.

Asahi holds a homemade cake slathered with thick pink icing. Inscribed on the pastry was an image of a frowny face and what Tanaka thinks is a crow, or it could be a dog, he still isn’t sure. Hinata looks around the room, she was positively glowing, as though everyone had given her a ticket to nationals. 

A blur of movement rips Hinata out of the circle.

“HINATA I’M SORRY!” Bokuto wails, clutching her closer to him in a bear hug. Her response is swallowed by his biceps, but from the way she reciprocates his embrace, Tanaka thinks she accepts his apology.

If it were in any other moment, this interaction would be considered wholesome; however, this is not like any other moment. 

“Uhh Bokuto-san? Why are you wearing a cheerleading skirt?”

“For solidarity,” he replies easily.

Behind him Akaashi sighs loudly.

Things get better after that.

The heavily frosted cake gets passed around, and Asahi confirms that the drawing was actually a volleyball, not a crow or dog. Sugawara consoles Asahi while he grieves over his lost career as a cake decorator.  
  
  


Meanwhile, Oikawa complains to Iwaizumi about how he also wanted to wear a skirt. Seijoh’s setter doesn’t hide his child-like pout as he eyes Bokuto, who poses for pictures in his new outfit. The ensemble does wonders for his thighs.

  
  
Kenma perches quietly on the wall; his content energy is contagious and leaves the room feeling peaceful and warm, much like Tanaka’s home after a homemade dinner.

  
Hinata stands at the center of it all.

Tanaka has never seen Hinata smile like this. It’s a bright smile, an ear to ear smile, a squinting her eyes and letting all the warmth inside her shine out smile. You could power all of Tokyo for a month with that smile. It was a proper homage to her nickname, a little sun in her own right. 

When she catches his gaze, she mouths a silent _thank you_ to Tanaka. 

Looks like he didn’t let her down afterall. 

_Tanaka Ryuunosuke added Hinata Shouyou to the ‘Sunshine Protection Squad’._

_ > Hinata Shouyou: HULLO FRIENDS _

_ > Hinata Shouyou: *HELL _

_ > Hinata Shouyou: **HELLO!!! _

_ > Hinata Shouyou: ...dang it _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am speechless.
> 
> Honestly, I never thought I’d write a multi-chap work, and here I am. I could not have done it without my beautiful, amazing, WONDERFUL [cut for length] readers. 
> 
> This platform is like a second home to me, and you guys create such a warm community. 
> 
> Quick life update: I’m taking a little hiatus as university starts up, but I may be posting one-shots about the groupchat here and there. I love these crackheads too much :3 so this is far from the end, my friends.
> 
> And for those looking for a sign to write their fanfic (Fem!Hinata, HQ, or whichever fandom you affiliate with) this is your sign loves. Go create your masterpieces and let your stories out. <3
> 
> I want to close on a note of gratitude.
> 
> Thank you for being patient as I juggle school and writing.
> 
> Thank you for leaving such lovely comments.
> 
> Thank you for taking a chance on this indulgent fic. 
> 
> I care about every single one of you and will always respond to comments.
> 
> Love,  
> Avocado

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all comments are welcome! 
> 
> Thanks for reading lovelies <3


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